The Thin Line
by Reuben deFlash
Summary: Blake Collins has another rough year ahead as MSI's rival, Fell's Point, hires someone to give him a run for his money. The new Director is a formidable foe, but if they can get past their differences, their friendship might benefit both schools.
1. Trouble

_Hey everyone! I don't know if anyone will read this but it's been on my computer for ages and I figured I'd upload it. I love Blake's character and so I decided to do another story involving the school. I kind of felt like I was betraying Alex (another OC I created) a little with this story, but I have a prequel to their story to upload at another time. Anyway, enjoy._

_RdF_

Chapter One – Trouble

"New term Mr Parkman," Blake Collins said, pausing as he walked past a group of students who were chewing gum and laughing loudly. "Let's try to not start it in detention. And pull your trousers up, for the love of God," he added in a mutter they couldn't hear, pacing away.

The main corridor was bustling with excitement as students and faculty alike squealed at each other from opposite sides of the large room, and headed to their homerooms. New students, distinguishable by the piece of paper glued to their hands, looked around in amazement at the school; though MSA had only been founded within the last century, the building had existed long before then and the architecture depicted that – with the snaking columns and high architrave – though there were notable, modern changes too. The renovations that had taken place over the summer being the one that was causing the most thrills; Blake had ripped out all the old wooden panelling and replaced them with huge glass panes, so that each class room was entirely visible and well lit.

Summer break had been long, and boring, with Blake itching to return to some kind of routine before he cracked wide open. His brother, Chase, who was now in his first year at the San Francisco Ballet Company, had intended to return for some of the holidays but had rung Blake early July to say he couldn't make it – they were going on tour in August, he'd gotten a principal role and he obviously had to stay to rehearse. Blake had been pleased for him, but it had left his summer with a gaping hole, and besides from planning the next term's timetables, trips, and finances – all the things that he revelled in – there was little else to do.

He had thought about visiting his parents in New York but after living for so long in Baltimore, the fast paced life of the city didn't suit him the way it used to. Besides, his Mom was as overbearing as she ever was, and rang twice a week to try and set him up with a woman as it was. What would she be like if he was there in person? He'd go at Christmas, or they'd come down – either way, a Collins family reunion, and that included Chase, was not far off.

But here he was, the first day of a new term and strangely, coming back to MSA and its long crowded corridors felt like coming home. He wasn't naive; he hadn't got many real friends here – most of the work force was slightly wary of him – but he was busy here and he really did love his job.

"Smile!"

A light flashed beside him as an AV student took the photograph of another student for the virtual yearbook they were doing this year. The girl on the receiving end – with pigtails and red cheeks – punched him playfully and squealed, "That is not going to be my yearbook photo Derek!"

He shook his head, noticing that they shrunk to the sides a little as he passed to get out of his path, and scaled the steps to his office on the first floor.

"Good morning Director Collins," his receptionist chirped as he walked through the waiting area outside his office. She'd risen quickly from her chair and sprinted around her desk to stand near him. Lisa was a young girl, who'd gotten the job a year after Blake had, replacing the ever efficient Mildred after her retirement, and while she could file well, Blake found her effervescent cheerfulness a little too much at times. She was on form today, beaming at him as she tossed her auburn curls and handed him some manila envelopes.

"There you go, Director," she smiled as she passed them on. "Coffee?" She smoothed her dress as she spoke to him.

"That would be great, thank you," he replied, opening his office door and backing away a little. "Just...bring it through when it's ready."

She nodded enthusiastically, tearing her eyes from him as the phone started to ring. "Good morning, Blake Collin's office, how can I help?"

Blake closed the door behind him, breathing a deep sigh as he glanced over the envelopes before sitting down. He frowned, sighed again, and pulled out his new reading glasses he'd gotten recently (much to his brother's amusement who had now dubbed him 'Fossil Man') and put them on before opening them.

Minutes later, Lisa let herself in after a timid knock at the door, carrying a mug of hot coffee. Smiling, and putting it down on his desk, she hovered briefly before he frowned, and glanced up over his glasses at her.

"Was there something else?" he asked, trying not to sound as irritated as he felt.

"Your Mother is on line one." Lisa swallowed nervously as Blake's expression changed. He took off his glasses and laid them down on the letter he'd been reading.

"What? Why?" he hissed, as if Francis could hear him.

"She said you were ignoring her calls yesterday, she's not stupid, and she thought she'd try you here," Lisa repeated, glancing off as she tried to remember.

Blake rolled his eyes. "It's the first day of term!"

"She said she has something important to talk to you about," Lisa said quickly, hearing the anger in his tone rising. "She wouldn't leave a message. She insisted I force you onto the phone."

Blake let out a sigh through his teeth that sounded almost like a growl and ran his hand over his face. "Fine. I'll talk to her now, before the staff meeting. If it's that important." Which, knowing his Mom, it wasn't.

Lisa breathed a sigh of relief, grinned and tossed her hair back again. "I'll put her through then shall I?"

Blake stared at her. "Yes, Lisa." She needed prompting at times; although she never brought him coffee, Mildred at least knew how things worked around his office.

"Ok!" she grinned, unperturbed by his annoyed tone. As she closed the door, he saw a light on the receiver of his telephone glow red and gingerly he picked up the phone with a heavy sigh.

"Good morning Mother," he said in a stern tone.

"Good morning Blake," Francis said down the line. He could hear the chink of china – she must be having a cup of coffee, just as her son was hundreds of miles away. "I've been trying to reach you – it's rather urgent."

"Yes, my receptionist told me you were a little forceful," Blake said with a smirk.

"Don't smirk down the phone Blake, just because you think I can't see you. I can hear it," she scolded. There was a silence. "It concerns Fell's Point Performing Arts School.

Blake faltered with a pen in his hand – he had been multitasking, trying to write as he spoke – and bristled slightly. Fell's Point as a rival performing arts school, on the opposite side of the district MSA was situated in. The rivalry between the two institutions had existed since Blake's parents were Directors; any benefits concert, showcase, recital was designed and specifically manipulated to out stage the other. Their grades were always compared, neither board saw eye to eye though they had to be civil for the sake of the dancing community, and as Director, Blake had to pick up the mantle and continue as those who had gone before him had done. "What about it?"

"Their Director retired."

"Well, that's wonderful Mother, but I already have a pretty solid job here at MSA. I don't think I could balance _two _directorships –"

"Blake, nobody likes a smartass, and you sarcasm is not appreciated at just past eight in the morning," Francis bit back, in a voice covered in sugar. "My point is, they're getting a new one, and word on the grapevine is that they've hired someone exceptional to revive the place. The school's been in a bit of a rut recently and they've gotten someone to inject some life into the institution."

Blake sighed. "Who is it?

"I don't know – its being kept very hush-hush," Francis said impatiently. "Just like them. We go and get you, fresh from London to bring MSA into a new generation and they have to try and out trump us. It's so childish." Blake rolled his eyes. If Fell's Point had gotten someone 'like him' first, MSA would have followed suit. It was the dancing world's answer to keeping up with the Jones' - keeping up with Fell's Point. He had been hired to turn MSA into 'the next Juilliard' and he doubted the reasoning behind the appointment of this mystery figure was any different.

"So what would you have me do Mom? Don a disguise and stake out the place?" Blake asked, sitting back in his chair, leaning slightly and turning the pen in his hand. "I'll meet them soon enough I suppose at Matthew's birthday party."

Matthew Rotherway was a board member – one whose birthday was around the start of the school year – and every year he held a huge party, completely extravagant and glamorous. He'd been a 'fashionable forty' for the past few years, as long as Blake could remember, and tonight was no different. The invitation even said "Matthew Rotherway's Fortieth'. The night was full of schmoozing and drinking and dancing – generally rubbing shoulders with a lot of people who worked in the industry. Of course, to save face, Matthew always invited Fell's Point's board and their Director (who had been one Harold Finley – an ancient and snooty man who Blake did not like) and so it was entirely normal to expect to see the new Director there.

"Of course, I'd forgotten," Francis said. "Send Matthew my love."

"Yes Mom," Blake replied, glancing at the clock. "I'm going to have to go – I have a staff meeting and then a school assembly. But as soon as I find out anything I'll let you know, ok?"

"Please do," Francis sighed. "Love you."

"And you Mom," Blake said quietly, hanging up. It had been fairly important after all then – a new Director could spell trouble. The situation between the two schools could worsen, or it might improve, but either way he should be prepared. Not everyone who arrived was as eager to stay in the turf war as the previous generations were – Blake hadn't been at first. But he had worked hard to make MSA what it was – and it was brilliant now – so to watch it be snatched away by someone else infuriated him. He had soon wanted to wipe the floor with Fell's Point; his students were the best, he had maintained with some pride.

Blake rose from his desk and grabbed his files and glasses to head to the staffroom. Upon opening the door, he found Lisa directly in front of it, fist raised, about to knock.

"What is it?" he asked with a heavy frown.

"There's a fight breaking out in the Quad," she said timidly. Blake clenched his jaw, shoved his things into her shocked hands and stormed out of the room, heading for the outdoor area. There was no rest for the wicked.

XXXXX

Blake slipped past groups of people talking and hovering, blocking the doorway, and smiled. Rotherway had done it again – transformed the local music hall into a triumphant display of his true soul; there were ice sculptures and dancers, a buffet table that stretched across the longest and furthest wall, and the marble dance floor recently polished. Everything was bright and glamorous, and had the marvellous _expensive_ glow to it that just screamed that money had made it all possible. It was exactly his parent's scene, Blake thought as he meandered through the crowd, nodding to a few faces he recognised though he had grown accustomed to it also. He was heading to the drinks table – he was thirstier than he'd realised – but paused to admire the band on stage that had just launched into a rendition of _Feeling Good_.

"Blake Collins!" said a clipped voice from behind him. "Don't you scrub up well?"

Blake turned with his hands in his pockets to see a smiling Matthew Rotherway, done up in a white tuxedo with a black tie; his steely grey hair swept back naturally and his dark rimmed glasses at the end of his nose.

"I try," Blake smiled, shaking the man's hand.

"I'm so pleased you could come," Matthew said loudly over the swing band. "Now, where's my present?"

Blake laughed. "I came didn't I?"

Matthew frowned and adjusted his glasses. "The cheek of it. It isn't every year a man turns forty."

"It is with you," said a dry voice to Matthew's left – Margret, another board member who was thin and waspish, and tonight dressed in a gold wrap dress, appeared at his side and offered Blake a polite smile. "The bow tie is a nice touch Blake, but it makes you look very young."

Blake's hand flew to his throat, but Matthew rolled his eyes. "She's winding you up. You look very handsome."

Margret smirked, and Blake met it with a simper. "So," the woman started in hushed tones. "What about this new Director business then?"

"Please Margret," Matthew snapped. "This is a party. No work talk." He paused and leaned in. "Have you heard anything at all?"

Blake shook his head. "Only that they've been hired to revive the school. Did they come tonight?" he asked, looking around the room though he'd hardly known just by sight. They wouldn't have a giant flashing badge declaring who they were – quite the opposite. It was very cloak and dagger.

Matthew crossed his arms. "Not that I know of. The board are here of course," he said shrugging. "But they're keeping schtum. I did hear," he said, even quieter, "one of them mention a 'Jesse', as I walked into the bathroom, but they moved off the topic very quickly, and I have no proof that its anything to do with their new Director."

Blake frowned at the childishness of it; stalking around like they were in some kind of movie, it was just silly. He supposed the announcement about this Jesse guy becoming Director would be made soon enough and he would see the man in the flesh at the next function they all had to attend together, if not sooner. He could be patient until then.

"Anyway," Matthew was saying. "I'll talk to you later." And he disappeared into the crowd with Margret going the other way, and Blake couldn't help but feel as f he'd slipped into a spy movie, with all the clandestine talks, the speculation. He smiled to himself as he turned to get to the drinks table again.

The waiter who served him couldn't tear his eyes from the band and so Blake had to wait patiently while he poured an orange juice blindly. "Thank you," Blake said biting his cheek when he got it. Turning to head into the centre of the room where he might find some people connected to MSA, he collided with another person gently on the shoulder.

"Oh, sorry," they said, laughing a little. "I misjudged the distance between us."

"That's fine," Blake said, shaking his hand which had some drink spilled on it. "I didn't get any orange juice on you did I?" He glanced up and was met with the sight of a woman – her dark hair was tied back in a loose up do, with her fringe and some tendrils hanging around her face. She was an equal height to him and clad in a figure hugging teal dress, which ended at the knee, and she was smoothing it gently. She looked up with a charming smile, and met his eyes.

"No, you didn't," she reassured him. "But it wouldn't have been your fault if you did."

Blake nodded. "Well, I apologise anyway," he said. He gave her a nod, turned to move into the crowd once more but the woman laid a hand on his arm.

"Wait a moment," she said, with the same disarming smile she had worn before. "You're Blake Collins aren't you? The Director of the Maryland School of the Arts?"

He felt his chest swell a little with pride – after all, he was proud of his job and who he was. "Yes, I am."

"I thought so," she said with a smirk, offering no other information. She'd let go of his arm by that point and stood with her hands in front of her. She had good poise and elegance, so Blake assumed she must have been a dancer at some stage; she was around the same age as him, perhaps a little younger. She had an audacity about her that he couldn't place; an air of confidence, and self assurance, and though her dress was fairly simple in style and embellishments, she wore it in a way that made her stand out from all the woman in the room. Blake swallowed and frowned.

"Are you a friend of Matthew's?" he asked, prompting her a little, trying to make conversation.

"Yes. From New York," she said over the music, looking at him with a curious expression. "Actually, its good luck I've ran into you. I've been looking at schools in the area – well, performing arts schools that is – my sister's looking to enrol you see. I recognised you from the website."

Blake very nearly outwardly cringed; several years playing leads in shows for the Royal Ballet and he was recognised from the school's web page.

"So, Mr. Collins," she said smoothly, leaning against the drinks table and crossing her legs a little. "What can you tell me about MSA? As a prospective applicant."

"Well, what do you want to know?" he asked, stepping a little closer to her with a polite smile, setting his glass down on the table. She shrugged.

"Is it a good school?"

"My opinion may be a little bias, Miss...?"

"Harper. I want to hear your opinion."

He paused and thought about it hard. "Well, Miss Harper, I believe that it is a good school, which offers students the best in whatever field they're applying themselves too. The faculty are hardworking and approachable, and the students are very talented. All of them," he added, "even if they don't always behave themselves." She laughed and he responded with a smile.

"Being Director must be a hard job," she said after a moment, with a concerned frown.

"It's like being a principal at an ordinary high school really – there are still teenagers everywhere. It's just specialised to performing arts," he explained carefully. She nodded thoughtfully, brushing the tendrils of hair from her face.

"I keep hearing a lot about Fell's Point?" she queried, with another gentle frown. "My sister quite liked that one, as well as yours." She looked almost sheepish for raising the competitions name to him. "Is that any good?"

"I'm hardly in the position to comment on it," he said with a smirk. The woman nodded.

"No, of course not. But...off the record?" she asked quietly, with another disarming smile. Blake paused; he wasn't going to be lulled into and lowered to verbally abusing the other side. He would have to be careful.

"They're a good institution. Their forte, I would say, is the musical and theatrical fields."

The woman raised an eyebrow. "I'm sensing a but..."

"But," Blake started with a smile, marvelling at how intently she was watching him. "They've slipped in the past few years in terms of keeping up with the competition. The environment there is almost stifling; they've not embraced diversity within dance, and so haven't grown in that area. If you're sister is an actress or interested in music, send her there. If dance is her primary strength, then I would recommend MSA." He kept a smooth, honest face, rather than smirking and she nodded in agreement.

"That takes a lot of courage to admit that a rival school is more accomplished at some of the arts it teaches." She paused. "Is their Director as young as you?" she asked, glancing down at her high heels. Blake gestured to the waiter for a glass of water.

"Er...no. He _was_ very old, and consequently he just retired. They're getting a new Director, but we haven't met him yet."

"Him?" she said with wide eyes. "So you know that much."

"Well," Blake said, shrugging. "I assumed it's a man."

The woman smiled to herself, and Blake realised he must have come across as incredibly sexist in that moment. He smiled sheepishly. "What I mean is that the name that's floating around is a man's name."

She nodded. "Well, thank you for your time Mr. Collins. You've been very helpful and extremely informative." The woman straightened up from where she had been leaning and put out a hand to shake his.

"Not a problem," Blake replied, looking into her eyes – a strong grey colour, close to blue. "Happy to help. I hope your sister makes the right choice for her."

"She will," the woman said in a strong voice. "Goodbye."

Blake stared after her for a little while as she slipped through the crowd until she disappeared from his sight. That had been odd; it wasn't often women found him so engaging, and she'd been attractive too. If Chase had been there, he would have scolded him for not 'making a move'; his brother insisted that Blake should take whatever he could get, because he wasn't getting any younger and not many people found the thunderous robot act attractive.

He had to smile at the thought of his brother; he might have taken him tonight, had he been there, just for some amusement. Matthew had always like Chase – everybody liked Chase, with the wit and easy charm that didn't come easily to Blake, he was a party favourite. It was a little lonely in Baltimore without him, and though he knew that as soon as he got back they would fight and bicker again, and Chase would push him to the end of his tether, it seemed worth it for some human company. Blake took the water that the waiter had placed on the table and went in the opposite direction to where the woman had heading, making a beeline for a group of benefactors he hadn't had a chance to speak to in a while. If nothing else exciting happened tonight, he could look back and say a beautiful woman had talked to him.

XXXXX


	2. Good Morning

Chapter Two – Good Morning

"Good morning Director Collins," Lisa smiled warmly as he went through the waiting room the following morning with a takeaway coffee from Starbucks already in hand, a bag slung over his shoulder and files tucked under the other arm. "How was the function last night?"

"Fairly interesting," Blake said, not offering her any more. He wasn't in the mood for her cheeriness that morning; he had slept terribly, for no reason at all, and finally decided to rise at about four in the morning. He had not stayed until the party had finished – though he knew that it had gone on for a good while after he left. And _interesting_ as an adjective didn't quite cover it; he had left just as a drunken Matthew declared that he wanted everyone to partake in the limbo.

"Sounds amazing," Lisa said almost wistfully, pulling at her peach satin shirt, though he had told her none of the details. "I'd love to go to something like that. Must be so glamorous with all those famous dancers…and the chance to wear a beautiful dress…" She'd gone starry eyed, staring off at a point in the distance.

He glanced at her as he tried to open the door, with a reproachful frown. "They're not all they're cracked up to be," he warned. She stepped forward and opened the door for him, stepping back so he could go inside. "It's mostly boring benefactors and dull conversations with people who pretend to know who you are. And as for the famous dancers, sometimes they're the worst. Though this was a birthday party so it was a little more exciting," he said backing into his office.

"Well, if that's how you feel I won't invite you next year," crowed Matthew from behind him, reclining in a chair. Blake stiffened and frowned at Lisa. She pulled a sheepish face and bunched her shoulders.

"Oh yeah, Matthew Rotherway is here to see you by the way," she said quietly. Blake glowered at her until she closed the door on them both and crept back to her desk. Blake, turning on his heels, smiled weakly at Matthew – now in a suit jacket and black t-shirt combination – who was looking at him expectantly, waiting for him to speak.

"You don't like my parties?" Matthew asked, smirking slightly as he teased the man.

"I do," Blake insisted, setting his back down and going to his chair behind the desk. "They're always eventful," he replied, searching for the words.

"Relax, boy," Matthew laughed gruffly. "I know it's not exactly your scene. Well, it might be if you'd loosen up a bit." Though he was smiling, he paused and Blake watched as a shadow crossed his friend and colleague's face.

"Was there something you wanted?" Blake asked carefully, shuffling some papers in an absent minded way, and then leaning back in his chair. Matthew sighed and raised an eyebrow.

"Yes. I've got some news about the Director of FPA."

Blake bristled, sitting forward on his elbows and waited for Matthew to speak again.

Matthew pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket. "A graduate of the School of American Ballet and a former member of the New York City Ballet Company," he read, glancing up at Blake, "has filled the position as Director at the local performing arts institute Fell's Point Academy."

He laid the small cut-out – a printout of some description from the website of a local newspaper, the _Baltimore Express_ – on Blake's desk for him to read himself. Blake picked it up and scanned over it after putting his glasses on, feeling the effects of his restless night weighing upon him heavily. Removing his reading glasses once again, he rubbed his eyes and looked at Matthew.

"Well, they certainly pulled it out of the bag," he sighed. "SAB and the New York City Ballet? That's impressive."

"The article went on to say she had three principal roles in those seven years, two supporting and some time in corps due to an injury."

Blake stiffened and looked up at him with a frown. "Sorry, did you say _she_?"

Matthew rolled his eyes. "Keep up Blake, I know it's early. Yes, _she_. The new director is a woman. Jesse Harper," he said slowly and clearly, "so I did overhear correctly. I've met her before, briefly, and she is a very accomplished dancer. Apparently she was at the party last night, but I never saw her."

Blake stared at him, sitting back in his chair once more as a thought, small at first and then overpowering took over his mind. He frowned and opened his mouth in disbelief. "Did you say _Harper_?"

XXXXX

Jesse switched on her laptop with a faint smile that she had worn all morning and played with a pencil in the pot on her desk as she waited for it to boot up. She was a little tired from the party last night, though she had left quite early – almost immediately after her conversation with Blake Collins – in favour of an early night. She glanced at her watch; it was almost eleven, and she had one of her first classes at twelve. The assembly had gone well, with the student body seeming general accepting of her, though she supposed it might be quite a novelty to have Director who wasn't over fifty and was something of a celebrity.

She'd been careful last night with her name; not many people asked for it and so she'd gotten away with introducing herself as 'Miss Harper' – which of course wasn't a lie, but was a little deceptive. Even Blake Collins had pried her for her name, though she doubted it would have meant anything to him anyway.

_That_ had been an interesting conversation, she thought to herself typing in her password. He hadn't been what she had expected; of course she _knew_ who Blake Collins was, but she had never met him before. For one thing, he was quite good looking in person, not that it was of any consequence. For another, he was a lot more careful and gracious than she would have liked. She could have very easily have caught another man out last night with her questions and though it was obvious Blake was proud of his school, he would not go to the lengths of bad mouthing another to prove it.

Truthfully, his honest answer had stunned her – to say that Fell's Point was much more advanced in musical and theatrical studies, while gently suggesting perhaps MSA excelled in dance, showed his frankness clearly. That was a statement of truth of course; the grades proved it. And with regards to dance, FPA did fall behind somewhat. But wasn't that why she was here?

The receiver crackled before it started ringing, and the light on it told Jesse that her receptionist was buzzing her. She pressed the open line button with a long finger. "Yes Heidi?"

"I have Director Collins, from MSA on line two," the girl said clearly, sounding amused. "He would like to talk to you if you're free."

"I'm free," she replied. "Buzz him through." How disappointing, she sighed, before picking up the phone. She would have liked to have seen his face in person; he struck her as the kind of man who would be outraged at the idea of the 'enemy' probing him. A wolf in sheep's clothing, or something like that. She was quite sure he was going to be very dramatic about it all. But she was sure they'd have an opportunity to see each other soon enough.

"Jesse Harper," she said in a sing song voice. "Good morning Director Collins. How are you?"

"Good morning," he replied coldly, and she could instantly hear he was keeping his vitriol in check. "I'm well. How's your first day going Miss Harper?" He almost spat her name out he was talking in such a clipped manner, though his words were civil.

"Spectacularly," she smiled, leaning back in her seat, stretching the phone cord. "Was there something I can help you with Director?"

"I was simply ringing to confirm that you were who I thought you were," he said, pausing carefully. "You should have mentioned last night."

"Oh, you'll forgive me for wanting one last night without the attention," she said softly. "Besides, I wanted to get to know you, off the record, before I started as your 'competition' as it were."

"Yes, I know exactly what you wanted to do, Director Harper," Blake said in a low voice.

"I'm not sure I like what you're implying," Jesse laughed.

"I don't appreciate mind games Miss Harper."

"Relax Director, you have nothing to worry about. Rather infuriatingly, your answers were honest without being damning."

There was a pause down the line. "I know better than to simply belittle another school for the sake of elevating mine," he said coolly. "And, you can't be too careful."

"Absolutely not," she agreed. "Not everyone is as honest as you are."

"No. They're not."

Jesse smiled to herself, not speaking for a moment. Had her actions bruised his ego that much? She knew she might have caused some irreparable damage between them that wouldn't benefit the schools; she might now always be the woman who had tricked and deceived him, and played him for a fool. No, she thought. He was a business man of sorts, and if any propositions arose between Fell's Point and MSA, then he would think it over like that, she was sure. She doubted emotions and scorn would cloud his judgment. She'd heard good things about Blake, and his school.

"Was there anything else, Director?" she asked, leaning forward on her desk and pulling up a document on her computer. She held the phone pressed between her shoulder and her ear for the moment before taking it with her hand again.

"I'm quite interested in why you decided to come to Baltimore and be a Director," he said, and she could hear his smirk down the line.

"Come on, Collins. This town's big enough for the two of us."

"We're not in a western Director Harper," Blake laughed, a little coldly. She faltered and sighed.

"Very well. I'm here because you're right; FPA isn't doing as well in dance as MSA. The board wanted to change that so they drafted me in – someone with considerable dance experience – to gear this academy towards a better environment for dancers as well as actors and musicians. A place that isn't so 'stifling' educationally, and is far more 'diverse', you know, ready to 'embrace' modern dance," she said, repeating his words back to him in a clipped, cruel tone. She was sure he was wincing at the sound of them.

"I see," he said finally. "I'll be watching your progress with interest."

"I don't doubt it," she smiled. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have work to do Director Collins."

"Of course," Blake replied. "Goodbye Director Harper." And he hung up before she could. Jesse paused mid air with the receiver in her hand, looking at it a little disbelievingly. That hadn't gone so badly. In fact, she'd almost enjoyed it.

XXXXX

Unbelievable.

Absolutely unbelievable, Blake thought with a heavy scowl as he placed the phone down and sat back. She was completely unashamed, and just as smooth as she had been the night before. In fact, she sounded almost as if she enjoyed that he had found out that the woman he had been talking to and the new Director were one and the same. As if it was small victory already.

Fell's Point 1, MSA 0.

And Blake didn't like that much. Rising from his chair and pulling his suit jacket on, he mulled over the events of the night before. In truth, he felt a little foolish. Were there warning signs that he missed? Thinking back there were a few, but hindsight was always twenty-twenty.

When had anyone been_ that_ interested in the school? No, Blake thought, scolding himself. The sister story had sounded legitimate. And for all her knew there may be another younger Harper running around Baltimore; God help him if she was as conniving as Jesse. But her interest in him, and her intensity with regards to listening was certainly questionable; after all, Chase was right – he wasn't exactly approachable. He should have known no woman would be that eager to talk to him.

Then she had brought up that she recognised him from the website, which was no doubt designed to bruise his ego – which it had, he admitted begrudgingly. Bringing him down a peg or two, before he'd even known what was going on.

She had asked about the Director of Fell's Point, hadn't she? And there had been that smile when he suggested the new one would be a man. He had mistaken it for…disbelief – that she was laughing at him for being 'sexist'. Clearly not. She had known that he would find out, and she was laughing at his assumption.

She believed he underestimated her. And to a point he had.

"Lisa," he said, walking past the girl, who was nibbling a cookie. "I have class. Keep any messages for me. And do me a favour," he added before he stepped out into the corridor. The girl looked at him eagerly, chewing and brushing crumbs from her lap.

"Dig up as much information on Jesse Harper as you can. I want family history, career, personal life, the works. Use Facebook if you have to," he commanded, leaving the room in a confident flair. No doubt, she'd done the same as he was.

If this was a war, then he'd have to know his enemy.


	3. An Intrusion

Chapter 3 – An Intrusion

Weeks passed before Blake had any more contact with Jesse Harper. There was little need to; the two schools didn't have a working relationship, which suited Blake just fine. He was quite happy with keeping the two worlds separate – and if that meant he didn't have to endure Jesse's smug, satisfied smirk ever again, well, that was perfect.

Lisa had been fairly triumphant with her research into his new foe, though it wasn't much help. He now knew that what roles she'd played in every show she's been in (including Odile in _Swan Lake_, which didn't surprise him – he had no trouble imagining her clad in black, like the evil manipulator she was), who her partners had been, her entire career up to this point. She didn't have Facebook, surprisingly, which Lisa counted as a mark against her. He felt as if he had nothing to battle with – as if he had simply walked out into the field with no weapon and no line of defence. He had rather shamefully been hoping for some kind of grim skeleton in her closet that he could take comfort from; that he could look at and say 'that is why I'm better than you'. But as it happened, there was no need for it; all was quiet.

Besides, he had his own troubles to be concerned with; there was the Christmas benefits concert which they did every year, and while they were only in the middle of November, there was a lot still to prepare for. Chase was making plans to come back for Christmas – just as Blake had hoped – and finding time amongst running a school to get Christmas presents was difficult. He was in the middle of a rather tedious search for a new ballet mistress; another dance teacher would begin her maternity after the holidays (it had become increasingly difficult for Juliet to correct a student's turn out when she could not longer see her own feet) and he needed someone there to pick up her classes.

Part of him wished Chase was old enough to teach, but he was part of a company now and Blake did think asking his own brother back as teacher would be some form of resignation – Chase 1, Blake 0. But he'd always known Chase would make fantastic teacher, though he wouldn't admit it aloud. He had that knack for connecting with people that Blake would never freely admit that he did not possess. Blake's talents lay in schmoozing benefactors, and surface connections. He'd most likely be that teacher everyone remembered for being the hardest task master in the school, and the most difficult to please.

Then there was the usual trouble of students who, try as he might to prevent it, always found some way to cause havoc. There were a choice few who frequented his office during the week, and those visits were often wearisome and infuriating; he knew they wouldn't have gotten in had they not had the talent, but it annoyed him to the point of exasperation that some people would give it all up for the sake of getting one over on someone in the quad, or talking back to a teacher.

Cruz Bellasario, for instance. Blake had watched his violin audition avidly, captivated by the boy's ability and here he was, sitting across from Blake, chewing gum and slouching in the chair, having been sent to see the Director once again.

"To say I'm at the end of my rope, Mr. Bellasario, is an understatement," Blake said sternly, leaning on the desk and looking at him reproachfully. The boy sighed deeply and threw his eyes heavenward, making Blake frown.

"Don't roll your eyes at me – this the third time Mrs. Trent has sent you to my office for disrupting the class. Now, I'm fairly reasonable I like to think," Blake said, sitting back in his office chair. "So I'll give you exactly five seconds to get rid of that gum, open your mouth and tell me why you see fit to disrespect a member of staff like that, and to hinder your fellow students' learning."

Cruz sat forward and threw his arms up in the air. "I swear - Trent has it in for me man!"

Blake inhaled deeply. "_Director_. And what do you mean? Are you suggesting that she's victimising you in some way?"

"Yeah I am! Besides, I wasn't disrupting – I just told her to leave me alone. Kristen Fitz was crying, Director, and I...I...I was just comforting her!"

Blake raised an eyebrow at 'comforting'; Cruz was half Italian, and well known for his passions. His version of events was far more placid than the reality - the stream of profanities that had fallen from his mouth, the explosive exit from the class, and he doubted that 'comfort' was all the young boy had in mind when it came to the young Miss Fitz.

"How very noble of you, Cruz. But that doesn't excuse the fact you were disruptive and rude."

"I'm really sorry, sir," the boy begged, running his fingers through his dark hair. "Don't suspend me. It won't happen again. I'll go say sorry. My Mama's gonna kill me if I get suspended again."

"That's not my problem," Blake said with a frown. "What happens within these walls, this school, is however. The course of action here, Bellasario, is suspension..."

The boy groaned and sunk deeper in his chair.

"However," Blake started, sighing. "I have a compromise. You'll write a letter of apology to Mrs. Trent, which you'll read aloud to her. You'll also have detention every night for the next three weeks, during which time you'll be given a crash course on cleaning with the school's janitor Mr. Hope."

Cruz stared at him. "You're being serious aren't you?"

"Deadly serious," Blake smirked. "I'll even get you some overalls that say 'Bellasario – Sanitation Engineer." The boy simpered at his Director's sarcasm and then pulled a face.

"But after school I have..."

"Well, we could always talk more about your suspension with your mother," Blake said flippantly, looking at some files on his desk.

"No sir."

"I didn't think so. It doesn't happen again, understand?" Blake warned, rising, and bidding the boy to do the same.

"Yes sir," Cruz grumbled, heading for the door. "But Kristen was real upset – some kids from Fell's Point were giving her trouble. She lives near a lot of them you see."

Blake stiffened and crossed his arms. "Is that so?"

"Yeah," Cruz sighed. "She was pretty upset about it."

"Even so, Cruz," Blake said, trying not to make a big deal out of the fact he was bristling slightly. "It wasn't your place to try and resolve it; not in a classroom when a teacher is trying to educate."

Cruz nodded and adjusted his bag strap. "It'll teach me I suppose, not to be so damn chivalrous."

Blake opened the door and frowned. "I think chivalry is the least of your problems, Mr. Bellasario."

XXXXX

Later that day, after lunch, Blake stormed into the waiting room from the corridor, glancing at Lisa who was reading her computer screen intently. She rose quickly when she saw him and skirted around the desk to talk to him.

"Oh, Director..." she started in a low whisper, sounding urgent.

"Not now Lisa," Blake snapped. "I have a thumping headache, and I just had a horrific meeting with the board. Can you believe that Fell's Point Academy is in talks for a brand new state of the art ballet studio being built, courtesy of the Mayor? And somehow that's my fault, because I didn't put enough effort into securing a donation." He shook his head and glanced at his watch.

"But Mr. Collins..."

"No doubt it's all because of Director Harper," he carried on, ignoring his receptionist and helping himself to his own incoming mail that she hadn't had chance to give him yet. "I'd love to know what she had to do to the Mayor to get him to part with any cash. I've been petitioning for weeks – she swans in and has a cheque in a second."

"Director Collins..." Lisa pleaded.

"I wouldn't put blackmail past her," Blake said in an angry tone, turning the door handle. "But it's more likely because she's one of those women who just have that knack of getting whatever they want..."

He had turn and stepped into his office as he finished his rant and was met immediately by the sight of Jesse Harper sat in _his_ chair, at _his_ desk, looking at him with extreme interest and a smug smile. She was reclining with her legs stretched out under the desk, and her hands lay on the arm rests curled over the ends. Blake blinked and turned his head slowly to Lisa, who was shrinking into herself behind him, genuinely cowering. Blake pulled the door to.

"Lisa," he said in a very hushed tone, wavering with anger. "If you ever let me walk into my office again, without telling me someone is in there again – _especially _after I've been slightly derogatory about that individual – I will fire you."

She nodded quietly, and scampered a way.

Blake took a deep breath and opened the door again, stepping through and closing it swiftly behind him. Jesse followed him with her gaze, watching as he fiddled briefly with his cufflink and then met her gaze.

"Lovely girl," Jesse offered, gesturing to the door where Lisa sat on the other side.

"Director Harper, what are you doing here?" he said evenly, laying his bag on the chair usually reserved for students.

"Oh, no 'good morning Director Harper'?" Jesse said with a frown, though she was still smiling. "That's not very polite."

Blake swallowed to keep himself from shouting. "I think normal manners go out of the window when you find someone's stolen into your office and is sitting in your chair. Especially when that someone runs a rival arts school, Miss Harper." He met her smile with a smirk and put his hands on his hips. "So I'll ask you again – what are you doing here?"

Jesse sat forward and adjusted her tailored suit jacket and smoothed her skirt. "I've come to invite you personally to the Fell's Point Academy Annual Christmas Showcase."

Blake frowned. "Why?"

"Why not?" Jesse shrugged, uncrossing her legs and leaning on the desk on her elbows. "It should be a good night. Plus, I came in person because I knew me being in your office would irritate you," she smiled.

Blake crossed his arms. "You don't have that great an effect on me Miss Harper."

"Oh really?" Jesse said with a smirk. She paused and lifted something up for him to see, waving it nonchalantly. "So, I was rifling through your desk drawers, and I came across this..."

"Give me that," Blake snapped, taking it from her, only to see it was an empty envelope and she had got him again. He clenched his jaw as she smiled at him again – the same insufferable smirk she had been wearing since he walked in – and crossed his arms once more.

"My board of Directors suggested I invite you," she said a little more seriously, tucking a loose bit of hair behind her ear. "Extending the olive branch. I believe I mixed two metaphors there but you catch my drift."

"I see," Blake nodded, pensively. "So what you're really saying, in not so many words, is that if I don't go, I'll look like I have a problem with your school and I'll be branded the bad guy."

She shrugged and pulled a face. "I hadn't read it that way but I suppose you're correct."

Blake shook his head, laughing quietly to himself. Without so much as a fight, she had made it entirely impossible for him not to attend; invitations would be sent to the entire MSA faculty, and any non attendees would look like they harboured a grudge. It was a case of saving face, and pretending, something both schools had been very accomplished at. No one could be seen to be resentful, especially not him as the Director.

"I'd be delighted," Blake smiled. "And of course, you'll be attending MSA's annual Christmas benefits concert?"

"I suppose I'll have to, won't I?" Jesse grinned. She seemed to understand the situation just as well as he did, though he couldn't read her expression well enough to tell if she was thrilled by the idea of it or not. "And I have to confess, I'm intrigued to see what you students have to offer."

"Likewise."

Jesse rose from the chair and moved around it to leave, while Blake quickly went to the door to open it for her. She nodded her thanks as he did so. "Next time," he said curtly. "Try reaching me on the phone."

Jesse smiled. "But I enjoy your company so much, Director. A phone call is never as satisfying as having these talks in person."

Lisa sat at her desk watching the scene at the doorway with wide eyes. Jesse Harper was exactly the kind of woman she wanted to be; a woman who exuded confidence and a sense of authority. A woman who could look elegant and pretty without trying too hard. A woman who made people like Blake Collins look like _that _– genuinely perturbed, and a little frightened.

"No, I don't doubt it," he said stiffly, not bothering to smile.

"Goodbye, Mr. Collins," Jesse said blankly, and turning on her black heels, she went to leave, smiling briefly at Lisa.

"Oh, Miss Harper?" Blake called out, remembering Cruz from earlier. He'd finally got a weapon he could throw at her that would help him equalise instead of flailing helplessly at her feet. "I've heard of an incident involving some of your students picking on one of mine. Try and nip it in the bud, won't you?" Her smirk weakened a little and Blake couldn't be sure, but it looked as if she were biting the inside of her cheek. She bowed her head slightly as if to agree and then carried on her way.

His victory seemed short lived, he realised, as he locked himself in the office. She had invaded his office and now, sitting in his chair, he couldn't shake the image of her being in it. It also hit him, with some discomfort, that she had never spoken about the Mayor, and what Blake had said, and the fact that she hadn't gloated seemed to set her out on top after all.


	4. Homecoming

Chapter 4 – Homecoming

"Guess who..." Chase called out as he pushed open the door to Blake's house, pocketing his key and shaking the snow from his coat. "It's your favourite brother..." he tried in a sing song voice.

Blake, who had been upstairs, started to walk down them with a heavy frown. He had heard Chase's booming voice from the other end of the house, and couldn't pretend he was not happy to see him. He managed to forgo his smile, however, when he saw him.

"You're getting snow everywhere," he said sternly, folding his arms as he reached the bottom.

Chase grinned and grabbed his brother in a big hug, knocking an 'oomph' out of Blake and covering him in wet snow droplets. Blake laughed weakly, patting Chase on the back to signal for him to let him go and stepped back, adjusting his tie.

"Is that any way to greet me, bro?" Chase scolded. "I've had a long trip. Glad to see you haven't changed the lock," he added.

"It's good to have you back," was all Blake could offer, stepping away from the doorway and heading for the kitchen. He'd missed him, but it did no good telling Chase that – his ego would explode and take his dignity with it. "Don't forget to wipe your feet."

"Blake," Chase sighed, pulling off his Nike's and – as soon as he was sure Blake couldn't see him – banging them, scattering melting slush everywhere. "I'm not a guest. I lived here, man. Even if I wanted to, the rules of this house are firmly ingrained on my membranes," he muttered with a smirk, swaggering through into the kitchen after his brother.

"How was the flight?" Blake asked, opening the fridge, and chucking his brother a can of Diet Coke. He'd gotten them in especially, seeing as Chase was coming back. His brother looked at it gratefully but didn't say a word, merely opening it with a soft click and a hiss, and taking a greedy gulp. He glanced around to see that very little had changed; there were no bananas in the fruit bowl – with Chase gone there was no one to want them, since Blake hated them. He was glad to see that the magnetic letters and photographs had not vanished from the fridge with his departure either.

"Lame," he said, putting the can on the side. "The plane was half empty, surprisingly. So no one to talk to. And the stewardesses ignored me."

Blake rolled his eyes; Chase's romance with Andie had proved incapable of lasting across the states – Chase was in Washington, and Andie had upped and pitched her tent in New York, working for a contemporary hip hop dance company. They'd parted well, as far as Blake could tell; they were still friends and spoke as often as they could. He could be called a cynic, but he had always been conscious that their relationship had been founded on unstable ground – emotions running high from dance and all that – and while he had accepted Andie and grown to like her greatly, it was obvious they weren't going to be walking down the aisle.

And now Chase was a free agent again, he was on the prowl. Not that his brother was a terrible ladies man but he was certainly young. The world was his oyster. And Chase had such a way with women.

"You're...dressed up," Chase said slowly, taking in Blake's shirt and cufflinks, and the new tie. "You're not going out are you?"

"Unfortunately," Blake said gritting his teeth. "My presence is required at Fell's Point Academy's Annual Christmas Showcase."

Chase let out a laugh and stared at him disbelievingly. "You're kidding right? Fell's Point? Come on Blake - the two schools are still at each other's throats?"

"Oh, you know it's not that overt. It's all cloak and dagger, and one upmanship. A masquerade of pomp and circumstance," he spat bitterly, knowing his brother was the only person he could show his true opinion to. He'd needed a chance to let some things off his chest; now Chase had left school, Blake often found himself discussing his pupils down the phone, knowing that his conscience wasn't in danger because of breaking confidentiality. "And my attendance tonight is a prime example as to why. If I don't go, they as good as suggested it would look as if I was uncooperative."

"That's ridiculous."

"I know!" Blake said, exasperated.

"I was talking generally."

Blake narrowed his eyes.

"Seriously!" Chase laughed. "This fight is decades old and _stupid_. We're better at different things. Anyway I thought you weren't so bothered about carrying the torch of Mom and Dad's irrational hatred. I thought you didn't really care."

"I didn't. I don't," Blake sighed, clenching his fists as he leant on the counter. Chase watched him shrewdly, pulling off the jacket he hadn't taken off yet and hanging it on the back of a chair.

"Then what's changed?" he asked with a frown.

"They got an evil witch to direct FPA who likes nothing better than watching me squirm," Blake said wryly. Chase pulled a confused face, blinked and waited for Blake to elaborate.

Blake crossed his arms. "Jesse Harper, the new Director –"

"No way! Jesse Harper? _The _Jesse Harper?" Chase exclaimed. Blake paused and looked at him with surprise.

"Yes...you know who she is?"

"Er...yeah Blake," Chase snorted. "I wasn't hatched out of an egg, and neither were you. Come on, we went to see a performance she was in a few years back...with Mom and Dad? The Nutcracker – put on by the New York City Ballet. She was the prima. That was the night you ate some bad seafood and got really sick and had to keep running out..."

"Thank you, Chase," Blake said coolly. How had he missed that? He had read in his research on her that one of her principal roles had been in the Nutcracker – he'd been so intent on fleshing out the enigma that lay before him, he had missed what was right in front of his eyes. He had seen her dance – amidst going to the bathroom – and she had been very good.

"Is she hot?" Chase asked with a grin.

"I'm not dignifying that with a response."

"So she's hot?"

"Chase!"

His brother shrugged and looked a little wearisome, but smiled anyway. "So what's the problem with Jesse Harper?" he asked.

"Besides the fact that she's a manipulative liar? She constantly addresses me as 'Director Collins' in this condescending tone. She's taken the Mayor's dance grant from the school – as if Fell's Point needs it. And, the first time we met, she pretended to be someone else and tried to prize information out of me, and baited me to see if I would put Fell's Point down."

"Neat," Chase said, sounding a little impressed.

His brother glared at him. "Your support is...overwhelming."

Chase blinked. "Whoa. She's really got to you hasn't she?"

"No," Blake said frowning, and lifting his chin a little haughtily. He paused. "She's just infuriating. It's like she's made it her personal mission to try and give me a nervous breakdown. And we've only spoken three times. She broke into my office too."

Chase's jaw dropped. "No way – she _broke in_?" He let out a low whistle. "That's pretty gung ho."

Blake grimaced. "Well, not exactly. She used her charm to convince Lisa that she should wait in my office – as if she'd take no for an answer - and I walked in and found her there – you know she told me she stopped by _just_ because she knew it would irritate me," Blake replied, relaying the events with a bitter temper.

"Urgh...Lisa," Chase muttered. Blake closed his eyes and shook his head. Chase had never liked Blake's receptionist much, and took little pain in concealing it, though he wasn't rude. "She's still there?"

"She's a good filer, and she makes nice coffee. Her ability to communicate is a little...lax, but she's working on it," Blake assured him.

"Yeah, and she also has a crush on you the size of Texas. No wonder you keep her around, Mr. Ego," Chase snickered, rolling his eyes. But his brother didn't seem to be in the joking mood; he was leant with his back against the counter with a gaze staring off out of the window, into the snowy December evening.

"I just shouldn't have to do this," Blake said blankly. "When did being held to ransom by a woman whose intent on my downfall become part of my job description? Why do I have to spend my Friday evening, sat in an audience being made to feel this small," he sighed, pressing his finger and thumb together, "for the sake of keeping up appearances?"

"Well, I guess that's what comes with being Director," Chase shrugged. "You know, schmoozing, and kissing a few butts to make the school a better place. No one ever said it was fair. But you never know, you could enjoy yourself. They might not be that good. And as for Jesse Harper," Chase sighed with a smile. "Sounds like someone round here's finally giving you a run for your money, which no doubt you've missed with me gone," he said with a wink. Blake put his tongue in his cheek. "I'd relish in this opportunity to show her exactly what you're made of." He walked over to his brother and punched him lightly in the chest. "Come on. Are you Blake Collins, or are you Blake Collins?"

Blake gave him a weak smile and glanced over his shoulder at the clock. A look of panic spread across his face. "No, I'm _late_," he groaned, grabbing his suit jacket and storming out of the house.

XXXXX


	5. Chess Pieces

Chapter Five – Chess Pieces

Blake rose from his chair, pulling his jacket from the back of it, wearing a stubborn frown that had settled itself on his brow from the moment the curtains had opened. Moving slowly with the noisy crowd that were filing out of the auditorium, he managed to make it to the doors, gently shuffling past some people who seemed to have paused in the doorway.

Though he was loathed to admit it, he was not the sort of man who couldn't appreciate talent just because of his own emotions on the matter, and talent was not short in Fell's Point's student populace. He'd had just sat through nearly two hours of dancing, singing, playing, and acting and not one of the acts had been mediocre. He had hoped, rather cruelly, that there would be a terrible performance that could put him at ease. But they had not been obliging. They were by no means perfect, he knew – he had a keen eye. But even the dancers had greatly improved in the short time Jesse had been there, and he was beginning to feel downcast.

It was warm with all the bodies, Blake thought as he strolled into the reception hall where drinks and a buffet were being served, and that was welcome after the coldness of outside. It had been snowing for over a week now, and was the 'coldest winter on record' that Baltimore had ever experienced, but no one seemed to mind with the hopes of a white Christmas around the corner. Even Chase, who had come from San Francisco where it was still fairly warm, had been acting like a child on the matter when Blake told him what the city was like; he'd even suggested they could make snowman together on the phone, much to Blake's' amusement.

The building was old; Fell's Point dated to the same time as MSA did, though it hadn't always been a dance school. It had been a rich merchant's house who, after years of doing business in the city's port, had decided to settle there and build his home. The hall, where they all gathered now, was enormous and had obviously housed balls and parties much like this one. A band was playing Concerto in D Minor by Vivaldi, and as Blake looked at them he realised they were students. The walls, a deep red, were decorated with shimmery golden voile and at each point where it met a vast ivory pillar, a bunch of mistletoe, holly, and ivy was gathered there. A giant Christmas tree with gold and white and red decorations stood tall in the corner and next to it was the table with a selection of food.

It looked like something out of a stately home magazine, and if he was truly honest, it was tasteful and beautiful.

He hoped he could get away before he had to speak to Jesse, though he knew he'd have to stick around long enough for someone to realise he actually came. He'd seen her briefly when he'd walked in and shown his ticket – he'd paid $10 for the privilege of watching tonight's showcase – and she'd given him a nod and a smile, neither of which he took for genuine pleasure at seeing him there. She had made a speech before the start of the show, just as he might of, and he couldn't help but note that while she didn't speak to the audience with the same tone she did him, she sound just as sure, just as confident in the school and her methods.

He saw Matthew and Margret talking across the room, but he made the decision not to join them. It would only look as if they were huddling together – fearful, beaten – and he didn't want that. Besides, wasn't mingling and schmoozing what he was good at? Blake made his way to the drinks table – he was thirsty after two hours of swallowing down his disappointment – and then he'd find someone to talk to.

"What would you like sir?" asked a tall thin boy of about seventeen, in a shirt and bow tie and smiling kindly.

"I'll just have some water," Blake said, realising the boy must be a student. The boy nodded and took a bottled water from a cooler, opened it and handed Blake the glass.

"There you are," the boy said, placing his hands behind him. "I hope you enjoyed the performance."

"It was interesting," Blake replied blankly, looking around once more at the room. "I take it you go to here? To the school?"

The boy nodded, a little proudly Blake observed. "I'm in my final year. I'm a pianist, sir."

Blake frowned a little, remembering. "You were in the showcase. You did the rendition of Moonlight Sonata. It was very good."

The boy had the decency to look modest, but when he looked up Blake saw the faint traces of a smirk he didn't like. "Thank you. I work very hard." Once again his tone was desperately trying to be modest, but laced with an arrogance Blake was only attuned to after living with Chase.

"Ah, Director Collins," said a quiet voice behind him. "I see you're mixing with my students. Not prising secrets out of them I hope?"

He knew who it was before he looked, and so was able to great her with a civil smile as he turned around, glass in hand. She was in a dress once again; simple, long sleeved and a type of burgundy that seemed fitting for Christmas, with her hair loose about her shoulders. She looked immaculate and ready for a fight. "Not all of us are that devious Miss Harper. How are you this holiday season?"

"Very well, as always," she said. She didn't seem so brazen tonight, but he supposed in a roomful of people, even she had to try to appear amiable. "I didn't think you'd turn up if I'm honest. Did you enjoy the show?"

"I wouldn't miss it." He stepped away from the table, aware that the young boy was watching the scene closely. "I thought there was a lot of talent on the stage tonight," he admitted. Honesty had stood him well before with her, and he'd only show himself up if he tried to claim anything different.

"You were talking to Ben Whittcombe; he's one of best pianists here."

"Yes, he was exceptional."

"And what about our dancers?" she said, smirking and brushing some hair from her face. "I believe you were critical of our dance program."

"I was."

"And now?" she asked, probing him once again for honesty. He decided on a half truth.

"It's coming along. I would consider it a step in the right direction certainly. But definitely not close to my standards." She nodded pensively, as if taking it on board, while he was doing the best he could not to seem flustered or anxious. In truth, she made him _nervous_; he had to check what he said with her, no conversation was ever going to be easy going. But still, remaining cool on the outside was what Blake was good at.

"I'm rather looking forward to _your_ showcase actually," she said with a smile and she looked down at a bracelet she was wearing, twisting and fiddling with it briefly. Blake raised an eyebrow, glancing off at a pillar.

"I don't doubt it," he said a little stiffly. She turned her head sharply to him with a bemused smile.

"What do you mean?" she said softly, almost laughing, almost mocking.

"Well, I think you've rather enjoyed demonstrating the talent that lives within this school, Director Harper, and now you want to come and see if we measure up in your eyes, "Blake smirked. She frowned, still smiling, and shrugged.

"Naturally." She paused. "I've heard good things about your students, and I know you're a good director."

He faltered at the genuine nature of the smile she gave him as she said it. What was her game? "But you still believe you can do better."

She laughed, taking him by surprise. "That's because I can. And I already have."

He gritted his teeth at her boldness, and put his one free hand in his pocket. "You're very self assured Miss Harper, but I don't see what makes you any better than me."

Jesse paused, smiling to herself before speaking. "No?"

Blake looked at the water in his hand and returned his gaze to her with resolute steeliness. "You're just a tool. You were called in by a board whose mindset hasn't changed since Fell's Point was first founded, and while you think you're making your own stamp here, at the end of the day, all you've accomplished is their wishes. A celebrity face with more publicity. And while I can appreciate the talent if your students, Miss Harper," he said in a low voice, leaning in a little, "I do not appreciate the snobbery that takes place here, nor the attitude of your students, simply because this school was around first or because its populace is _richer_."

She folded her arms, finally losing her smile and stared at him. "My students are dedicated."

"So they may be in school, but they've shown themselves to be arrogant bullies too," he jibed.

"That isn't true," she said. "And slandering this institution with insults simply because you can't handle the fact that it's a _threat_ is juvenile." She turned on her heels to leave but paused. "Perhaps you should question _your_ role as Director – if I was just brought in as a celebrity, then what dies that make you?" Blake said nothing, so Jesse continued. "Thank you for coming Director Collins. I'll see you at your showcase."

Blake watched her go with a mixture of curiosity and irritation. He'd clearly touched a nerve with his comments, but the feeling was mutual.

XXXXX

"Spencer?" Jesse called out in a weary voice, as she heard the sound of music coming from upstairs. "I'm home." She threw her car keys on the dresser in the hallway of her home and pulled off her heels, nursing the balls of her feet. It had been a long night, and naturally she'd been there longer than everyone else, making sure the place was cleared up. She'd had the help of the students of course, but after a night on her feet, enduring people after people and being nice to them, she was tired.

A girl skipped down the stairs in dark sweatpants and a flannel shirt, with her dark hair piled on top in a scruffy bun. She stopped at the bottom and stared at Jesse, yawning as she did so. "Hey sis," she said lazily.

"You didn't have to wait up," Jesse said, sighing as she paced through to the kitchen. Spencer followed her, her bare feet padding softly in the tiled floor.

"I didn't," the girl said raising an eyebrow and helping herself to a Sunny Delight. "I was watching reruns of Scrubs until a few minutes ago. How was the Butt Kissing fest?" she asked, wiggling her eyebrows and taking a sip.

Jesse rolled her eyes. "Don't call it that. And it was alright. Everyone did really well in the show, and afterwards when they were serving."

"Did you have another run in with the Collins guy?" Spencer asked pulling up a stool to relax while she watched her sister start to put some washing up away. She'd noticed Jesse was wearing a heavy frown and seemed troubled.

"Yeah, and I much prefer it when it's over the phone, or on my terms," Jesse said with a frown. "You know, he said I was just a _tool,_ and only brought in to FPA because I was a celebrity, and the board were never going to listen to any of my suggestions. Like he's any different. Of all the applicants for the Directorship at MSA, the man who gets it is a RBS graduate, well known in dance, and the _founders' son_ for goodness' sake. If Blake Collins isn't a puppet, I have no idea what is."

Spencer wrinkled her nose. "Isn't he right?"

"No!" Jesse laughed, disbelieving. "The board have listened to me so far, haven't they?"

"I guess," Spencer agreed slowly, "but you're bringing in money and raising the profile of the dance department at the moment. I don't know if they'll like you so much if you introduce something radical, which is entirely likely with you."

"Come on," Jesse said putting her hands on her hips. "I'm hardly 'radical'."

"Anyway, don't you think you got what you deserved with the Director guy? After all, you've pushed him a bit," Spencer pointed out, curling her feet around the bottom rung of the stool. Jesse sighed.

"Wow. I don't know what I'd do without your support and comforting words," she said dryly.

"What? I wouldn't take your sh...trash," Spencer corrected herself as her sister raised a stern eyebrow. "Maybe he grew some balls over these past few months."

"I have no idea how I'm related to you. You're beyond crude," Jesse said, walking past her to a cupboard to put some plates away.

"Whatever, this whole school pride is ridiculous. Sometimes I think you'd disown me if I decided to go to MSA," Spencer said laughing as she rose from the stool. Jesse clipped her over the back of the head as she walked past again, back to the sink.

"That would be a huge betrayal," Jesse said with a smirk as Spencer nursed her head.

"Hey, their dance program is great..."

"So is mine," Jesse said coldly and through her teeth. "It is now anyway. Besides," she said in an accusatory tone. "You won't dance anymore so what's the point?"

"Good point," Spencer said thoughtfully, tapping her chin with a long finger; the nail coated in a dark polish. "I guess I'll stick with FPA then." She grinned and kissed her sister on the cheek, turning back to go to bed. "Nice try though..." she called out without looking back.

"Goodnight – don't forget, if you want a ride to school, I'm leaving at half seven!" Jesse called back, and got an unclear murmur back from up the stairs that she took as an 'ok'. Spencer had...improved... lately. She was certainly back to her quick witted, jokey self. And she'd always been somewhat blasé about everything but the 'whatever' stereotype that was so often stuck to teenagers was an accurate perception at the moment. Nothing was a big deal, nothing was a drama. She found Jesse's anxiety and stress laughable. Perhaps it was. Spencer had been laidback from the moment she was born, but since the accident, she didn't seem to really care anymore. It had started with dance, much to Jesse's disdain, but she hoped Spencer would find a way to go back to the girl she had been a year ago.

Her sister had been right though, even if she'd perhaps not put it in the way Jesse might have – Blake Collins had finally bitten back tonight, and for all her confidence and 'self assurance' as he put it, she'd let it get to her. She'd been warned that the battle between MSA and FPA could be brutal, and it had seemed so silly to her at first. But it was important to the board, and so to the school, and truth be told she hated to lose, she hated not being in control; she'd moved her piece first at Matthew's party, keeping one step ahead of him ever since, and that meant she could afford a little damage now. There was no accounting for the way she was acting, apart from that it was part of her job and she wanted to do it well – to be the best she could be as a Director of a performing arts school. It was certainly not somewhere she'd pictured herself when she'd first started out in a company, and she wondered if Blake felt the same.

But even if life didn't work out the way you planned it, Jesse thought as she glanced at a photograph of her parents on the wall, you did the best you could with your lot. And that's what she'd done; it hadn't been easy but they were on top of it now.

Except for Spencer not dancing.

Flicking the lights off, Jesse trod softly to the stairs and climbed them slowly. Her weariness was almost overwhelming, and she had little doubt that if she were to sit on the stairs and close her eyes, that would be where she'd stay until morning.


	6. The War Begins

_A/N: No Blake and Jesse action this chapter, sorry! But it's all pretext. I'm not as happy with it, but I've tweaked it and retweaked it and I'm exhausted from reading the same chapter over and over! Enjoy._

_RdF_

Chapter 6 – The War Begins

Kristen Fitz sighed as she sat down at the bottom of the steps leading up to the school building. It was a good few minutes before the end of school, and so the bell hadn't sounded yet, giving her a bit of peace before the entire school flooded out of these very doors and into the street – those who weren't staying after school anyway. She had just been in a free period, but the library had been stifling; the librarian insisted on having all the heating turn up very high to compensate for the nippiness outside and it was like sitting in a sauna. In the end she had given up and come to find solace in the quiet street.

MSA was on an urban street – easily one of the grandest buildings along a wide road which lead to a junction one way and to the docks the other. This neighbourhood of Baltimore was at the heart of the city and one of the more built up areas; the architecture was old, but multicultural – the port had meant all nationalities settled there; Portuguese, Italian, Polish and there was a large Jewish community too. There were very few trees near MSA – unless you counted the odd baby oak planted outside restaurants near the cobbled streets and the community park a few blocks from the school.

Kristen had lived there all her life, and she loved the city of Baltimore. It was the perfect place to live in her opinion, especially for dancers. No one else felt like home but right in the heart of the city. But unlike most of the student populace, she lived in Woodberry; middle class, pristine lawns, picket fence Woodberry, in the suburbs just outside of the city. It had been the perfect place to situate one's self sixteen years ago, and so when her mother was pregnant, her dad had bought the three bedroom semi immediately. Anyone who lived in Woodberry was outside the catchment area for the school bus for MSA, and so she had to get a different ride. It was a lonely bus ride away from MSA to her house, which lasted forty long minutes. The only other person she knew who lived where she did was a young boy called Michael Wolowitz, and the rest of the people her age in Woodberry were _Fell Pointers_.

Fell Pointers, the colloquial term for students from the other performing arts school on the opposite side of the district, were snobs at best. Living amongst them (as Woodberry was dense with them, like cockroaches gathering together in a nest) gave Kristen a unique insight into their lives and personality. It was the Fell Point families that mowed their lawns every Saturday, gave their children brand new 4x4's from the minute they could sit behind a wheel legally and turned their nose up at anyone who earned under $100,000 a year. Lucky for Kristen, her Dad was making quick bucks in his law firm, meaning they _belonged_ in Woodberry, which ironically was the worst luck of it all.

She much preferred the vivacity of Cruz's neighbourhood (she'd gone there for a Fourth of July party, desperately trying to escape the grandiose fireworks displays in her street, in favour for Cruz's brother Mario holding a lit Firecracker and asking whether it was 'on'). Everyone was easy around each other, and no one picked on her for going to MSA. Which Fell Pointer's _did_. Mercilessly.

She'd liked MSA better – obviously because the dance program as better than FPA's. But boy did she suffer for it. And travelling with them all on the bus was like some kind of cruel torture – those who didn't drive to school in their new Dodge or Chevvy that was. Kristen was beginning to feel like she was receiving some kind of divine punishment for something terrible she didn't remember doing.

"Yo, Kristen!"

She turned her head to see Cruz in baggy grey sweatpants and a white t-shirt, pulling at his rucksack straps. He grinned widely and slid down the railings to where she sat, landing with a thud as his huge trainers connected with the concrete. He nudged the blonde girl and sniffed.

"What are you doing out here? You look beat," he said, taking in her crestfallen face.

"Waiting for Wally," she sighed, fiddling with a beaded bracelet. 'Wally' was Michael Wolowitz; after travelling in the same purgatory together for years, Kristen and the boy had struck up an alliance, even though he was a technician and here at MSA to work with the sound and computers. He could mix music like there was no tomorrow, but his nerdy appearance generally made people think otherwise.

"That doesn't explain why you have a frowny face..."

"I've gotta catch the bus with the Fell Pointers haven't I?" she said with wide eyes, a little impatiently. "I'm hardly going to be singing and skipping right now."

"Jeez..." Cruz said, breathing out heavily. "They're still at it."

"You say that like they're going to stop," she said wryly. The bell rang at that moment and few seconds later the doors opened and out poured the students, nattering and squealing as Kristen had anticipated. She rose, and so did Cruz, picking up some of her books she had laid beside her and handing them to her. She smiled gratefully. She liked the Italian boy, even if he was a bit outlandish. He'd seemed genuinely concerned in her plight, even getting sent to Collins' office the other day when he'd mouthed off to Trent about seeing to Kristen when she was crying. She knew he'd paid the price – Director Collins was as harsh as any judge when it came to punishment.

"Fitz!" called out a boy, fighting his way through the crowd. He had no trouble – Michael Wolowitz was a little overweight and so packed a little power behind each 'gentle' shove he gave the crowd as he moved through. He was wearing a trilby on the top of his dark shaggy hair and a checkered shirt over his t-shirt that read '_I'm the bomb technician – if you see me running, try to keep up._' "Ready for hell?" he asked with a crooked grin, that seemed confident but betrayed concern.

"As ever."

A people carrier pulled up and honked its horn, making them all look from where they stood. Carla Bellasario rolled down the window and stuck her dark head out. "Are you getting in, _bambino_, or what? You know Mario has soccer practice! Why you always gotta make me late, huh?" She shook her head vehemently, clicking to get her son to hurry. He lowered his head and groaned.

"Mama! I've told you not to call me Bambino when my friends are around!" he cried, sliding the door open and climbing in. Carla ignored him and eyed Kristen and Wally shrewdly.

"You two need a ride, or are your parent's coming?"

"We get the bus, Mrs. Bellasario," Kristen smiled.

"And? Climb in! The back of my car's got to be better than a bus. I'll take you home," she said briskly, saying something in Italian to Mario – Cruz's thirteen year old brother – to get him to move.

The pair looked at each other and stepped forward quickly. Cruz's angry mother was a far better option that Fell Pointers.

XXXXX

Cruz strolled slowly down the curb of the Woodberry neighbourhood. Despite the world of differences between them, Cruz, Kristen and Wally had struck up a firm friendship in the weeks that had passed. It was Saturday, and they all had a mountain of homework to get through, and it made sense with their collected minds (though Cruz couldn't claim to contribute much to that sum) to work together. It made _sense_, but he doubted they would get much done. They usually ended up in peals of laughter over something. There were too many distractions at home (his little sister Isabella was practising for her solo at church that weekend), and the library wasn't far from Woodberry.

"Look who it is," Wally called out from behind him, jogging over. "The Italian Stallion."

"It makes me uncomfortable when you say things like that bro," Cruz grinned, greeting Michael with a slap on the back and a soft punch to the chest.

"You ready to delve into Cannon's homework assignment?"

Cruz pulled a face and twisted his cap to the side. "Even the title sounds boring." He glanced along the row at all the houses. For the most part, they were identical – large, extravagant, and they stank of money. There wasn't a single drive that didn't have a brand new car in it, most of them sports cars, and Cruz got the feeling that if they didn't go inside, or catch the bus soon, then they'd be arrested for vagrancy. It was that kind of neighbourhood, and he didn't belong here. Nor was he sure he wanted to, judging by the stories he heard from his friends. Kristen's house was smack bang in the middle of the row of buildings; a large brick house with a neat yard, white picket fence and an American flag waving from the second floor. They stopped at the gate where the mailbox was, and seconds later, Kristen came out of her door dressed in a thick sweater, tights, skirt and sneakers. She greeted them with a warm smile as she wrapped a scarf around her neck.

"Ok team. Let's hit the library," she said in a sing song voice.

"The pathetic thing is that that option is marginally cooler than what I would have been doing today," Michael said grimly, brushing his hair back from his face.

"You shouldn't be such a geek then," Cruz said as if it was obvious.

"The term is _nerd,_ ignoramus," Michael said indignantly. "And that's the last time I let an error like that slide. How insulting," he muttered under his breath.

The bus stop was at the end of the street, underneath a large oak tree and in front of the oldest house in Woodberry; a large red building owned by an elderly man who often held yard sales full of antiques. They stopped, noted that the bus wouldn't be there for another ten minutes and were glad that although it was January, it wasn't raining. The weatherman had promised snow, and the only glimpse they had seen was the brief fall a few weeks prior, during the Christmas holidays. Kristen rubbed her arms to keep warm and marvelled at how Cruz wasn't even fazed by the chilly air. He shrugged when she mentioned it.

"I'm Italian –hot blood," he said with a smirk.

"Yeah, well I'm Jewish," Michael stated, shivering. "And I'm freezing my ass off."

Their laughter stopped abruptly as the boys noticed Kristen's smile drop and her countenance change to one of discomfort, as she seemed to shrink into herself and lower her head. They turned their heads to see a boy and two girls walking towards them; all tall and thin, one girl was a bright blonde with angular features, dressed in a knitted sweater dress, tights and pumps, and the boy had short dark hair to match his dark eyes. The other girl, who walked a little bit away from them, had dark messy hair in a scruffy pony tail and was wearing a leather jacket that matched her military boots. Both the blonde and the boy wore a cold sneer when they spotted the group and although it looked as if they had been headed straight past them, they seemed to change their course to talk to them.

"Well, well, well," the boy smirked. "Kristen and Wolowitz brought a friend to the neighbourhood."

"Ben," the dark haired girl sighed, holding her bag strap across her and rolling her eyes. "Just drop it."

He ignored her and looked at Cruz with a bemused expression. "I don't recognise you - do you live in Woodberry?"

"No," Cruz said slowly. "Do I look like I'd live in Woodberry?" he snorted, raising a dark eyebrow.

'Ben' took in his sweatpants, Nike's and hoody. "No. Now you mention it, I can tell," he smirked. Cruz made a start forward with an angry glare, but Kristen's hand rose to stop him.

"Just leave us alone," she said quietly, though she was trying to sound strong. "We're just trying to catch the bus."

"So do you go to MSA with Kristen? Are you a dancer?" the blonde asked Cruz, ignoring Kristen and showing a set of pearly white but feral teeth.

The Italian boy eyed her suspiciously. "Yeah, I do. But no, I play the violin."

Ben snorted. "Figures. Like they'd let someone like him into Fells' Point," Ben muttered to her. They giggled to themselves.

"Like I'd _want_ to go to Fell's Point," Cruz scoffed. "The Academy for Pretentious Stuck-Up Jerks. No thanks, _culo_," he added, delivering it with such pizzazz his accent made it sound all the more insulting. Cruz was suddenly very proud of his heritage as Ben's smirk dropped and he folded his arms.

"I'd expect you to bad mouth FPA, when you come from MSA – famed for taking in dead ends and no hopers. But I'm surprised that _you_ got through its doors – you seem a little destitute even for them."

The blonde shook her head with mock sadness. "They'll take anyone."

"MSA is just as good as Fell's Point," Michael piped up, talking before Cruz shot forward again to throttle Ben. "The GPA's of all the students prove it, and as far as league tables go, we're even."

"And the people at our school aren't arrogant bullies so..._e chi se ne frega_?" Cruz retorted with a grin, adding the Italian phrase simply because he had seen the flash of fury behind Ben's eyes before.

"I hear your Director is losing his touch," the blonde smiled, examining her nails and tossing her blonde hair.

"Is he hell!" Cruz snapped, adjusting his cap again aggressively.

"Director Collins is a fantastic principal," Kristen interjected. "If you knew anything, you'd know it's because of him that our dance department outshines yours at every corner." She wouldn't normally be this bold, but it was easy when she had her friends beside her and the playing field felt level.

"And if _you _knew anything, you'd know he was at our Christmas showcase a few weeks ago, looking sick," Ben replied with a grin. "I served him myself - I thought he was going to throw up."

"_I_ hear your Director can't make any changes in the school because the board all have sticks up their asses," Michael said, shrugging. "At least we're open to adjustment. Fell's Point is so set in tradition and what's seen to be right, you won't even consider diversity. That's why you're stuck in the Stone Age. Like Neanderthals."

"She's trying," the dark haired girl said suddenly, making everyone look at her. "But they're right," she added to the Ben and Meaghan. "The board aren't very flexible."

"There's a difference between diversity and lowering your standards," Meaghan snapped over her shoulder. "Honestly, you're not helping."

"I'm trying to see both sides of this stupid argument," the dark haired girl said firmly. "Can we just go? This is ridiculous." They ignored her, so she sighed in an irritated way and barged past them, heading off her own way and barely looking as she stormed across the road.

"Listen," Ben cooed as if he were talking to a small child. "There isn't room in Baltimore for the both of our schools, and the way I see it, the weaker one should go."

"We're not stopping you," Cruz said, squaring up to him.

"Please," Meaghan laughed. "Don't be childish. Historically, Fell's Point was here first."

"Now who's being childish," Wally muttered. Meaghan gave him a scathing expression that made the Jewish boy shrink into himself a little.

"Just because you were 'here first'," Kristen said exasperatedly, "it doesn't make you better. Fell's Point has become really elitist and that doesn't make you a better dancer, or musician, or whatever! It just means you can buy your way into things."

"There's nothing wrong with being rich, which you are, so don't get on your high horse," Meaghan said haughtily. "Perhaps, Kristen Fitz, if your parents had sent you to Fell's Point rather than the Maryland School for the Wasters, your turnout wouldn't be so bad and you wouldn't dance like you're afraid of your own feet." Kristen's face fell and she didn't say anything more, but both boys were shaking beside her. They'd gone too far; it was one thing to insult their school, it was another to launch an assassination at one of their own. But before they could utter another word, the bus they were waiting for started to pull up along the curb, with barely anyone on it, and the MSA students all stood there, unable to speak and feeling utterly defeated.

"You're ride's here," Ben said sweetly, brushing past. "Run along, wasters."


	7. Evasive Action

Chapter 7 – Evasive Action

"Ring ring."

"Chase, I've answered the phone," Blake said blankly, writing as he cocked the receiver between his shoulder and ear. "There's no need to make the telephone noises like a child."

"I was just messing; I find 'hello' boring sometimes," his brother laughed down the phone. "What's got your panties in a twist?"

"Besides having an irritating brother?" Blake asked with a smirk Chase couldn't see. "And I don't wear _panties_, thank you very much."

Chase grew very sombre, very quickly. "So you're not wearing underwear? Blake that's not something you should share with your bother over the phone. Or ever. Really, that's disgusting..."

"I didn't mean th-...you're the bane of my life. Have I ever mentioned that?" Blake snapped, exasperated after only a few minutes talking to Chase.

"Often. I was just checking up on you, and this is the thanks I get."

Blake sighed wearily and rubbed his eyes. He'd not been sleeping particularly well; a recent thing that seemed, rather annoyingly, to have begun when Chase departed after New Year for San Francisco. The house was too quiet once again, and it had taken a while last time he'd left before for Blake to become accustomed to the silence he had craved all through their living arrangement. Once it was there, it disturbed him and left him to dwell in his own mind. He wasn't sure if he liked it. And now was no different. Chase had only been home a month at most, and he had dominated the air of the Collins residence; playing his music once again, having the TV on, shouting from one end of the house to the other. It was both irritating, and comforting, but mostly a chilling reminder that when he was gone, Blake was alone.

"I'm busy."

"When aren't you? I just wanted to know how school's going and everything..." Chase sighed. "I had a free day so thought I'd call."

Blake was momentarily touched by Chase's sensitivity but swallowed hard. "School is going swimmingly. As for everything else..."

"Are you still having trouble with the ole dragon up the road?"

Blake rubbed his eyes. "Chase, she's not an old dragon. I called her a witch; she's neither old nor scaly. Secondly, no, the waters have been very...calm...on that front, since our run in at the Christmas Showcase."

"Did she show up to ours?" Chase asked, yawning slightly.

"Of course," Blake snorted. "Duty calls and all that. She even complimented our dance department."

"But nothing else?"

"No."

Chase whistled down the phone. "She's a tough nut to crack."

"Yes, well," Blake mused as he scribbled down some notes and sent them through the fax machine to Lisa. "Thankfully our encounters are few and far between. We just rub each other up the wrong way; our personalities are entirely..."

"Similar?"

"Different. I was going to say different," Blake said coolly. "Jesse Harper and I are nothing alike."

"Oh come on, bro, "Chase laughed. "You're like two controlling peas out of a pod. That's why she gets on your nerves. Because finally you can see your own worst traits in someone else, and you _don't like them_."

Blake put his pen down sharply. "I'm hanging up on you now..."

"Aw Blake," Chase pleaded. "Don't! Don't you wanna hear my news?"

Blake paused as he held the receiver away from his ear. Pressing it against his head once more, he took a deep breath.

"I knew you had a reason for calling, besides being 'concerned' about your dear old brother."

"You're not a fossil yet. But yeah, kind of." There was a stagnant pause that sounded as if Chase was taking a nervous breath. "I've been thinking over some things and my future and stuff. And I've...decided I want to..._maybe_...go into teaching. I know – surprise – but I just look at what kids have to put up with in performing arts schools and I want to make a difference. I haven't found a course yet, but I have a few I'm looking at over the next few weeks. I'm enjoying my time on tour, but there's no...purpose...no end result to _just_ performing. I mean, I still want to perform, but...do you understand what I mean?" he paused and waited for Blake to answer.

Surprisingly Blake did. He'd never dreamed of becoming a Director while he'd been part of any company but now, working as a teacher had been more fulfilling that prancing across a stage each night. Of course he had enjoyed it, but there was a time in his life where he had ceased to be amazed by the crowds, and the weariness from a principal lifestyle caught up with him. Being a Director, of course came with its own problems and strife. But as Chase put it, he had a purpose here; he could give something back.

Whether his students wanted it or not, he thought with a smile.

"Blake, you've gone quiet. Are you that horrified?" his brother asked.

"No...No. I'm here. I...think that's a great idea. It'll be...a proper job," Blake managed, feeling his throat constrict. "But you can't work here," he added firmly.

"Why!"

"I don't tend to employ faculty that I know will pull practical jokes on me, or embarrass me frequently," Blake said, laughing softly. "Now, go. I'm sure there's someone else you can irritate. I have work to finish."

"Whatever," Chase laughed. "You'll be begging for me to teach at MSA by the time I'm through my course."

"Yeah. Right. I'm no glutton for punishment," Blake added, shaking his head as he hung up, knowing that his brother's words were half true.

XXXXX

"I can't believe I let you guys talk me into this," Kristen whispered as they stood outside a grand building. It was around midnight, and very cold; there was still frost about and all Kristen could focus on was the fact that he mother's flowers would be killed by it. She was dressed head to toe in black – as were Cruz and Wally – and the cliché didn't escape her either. If anyone were to walk by, they would look beyond conspicuous, which was completely the opposite of what they were going for.

"You don't have to come in! That was the deal – just keep watch...and pick the lock cos my fingers are too fat," Wally hissed, pulling his black beanie hat over his head. Kristen rolled her eyes, shaking but unsure whether it was because she was cold or because she was afraid.

"Come on guys," she pleaded. "Let's leave it, while we still can. This was a bad idea."

Cruz spun round as he fiddled with the window, screwdriver in hand. "No way! We can't let them get away with treating us the way they do. I had one day of it – I can't imagine how you guys feel after years of it. It's not fair, and we need to execute some justice."

"But what if we get caught?" Kristen whispered.

Wally froze. "She has a point."

"Then we plead insanity," Cruz said impatiently. "My uncle works at the DA's office. It works all the time." His friend seemed to weigh up the option pensively.

"I could go for that," Wally nodded, helping with the window. Kristen sighed and pushed them out of the way.

"You're going about it all wrong," she murmured, edging the frame with the screwdriver until the paint peeled back and the frame seemed to pop out slightly. "That's the trouble with old buildings. Instead of actually securing the windows, they just leave them painted shut."

"Well, look at you," Wally smirked, adopting a Southern accent. "Regular cat burglar."

"I watch a lot of CSI."

"Come on, let's be quick," Cruz urged, tapping their shoulders. "Help me up, and I'll pull you inside Wally." He glanced at Kristen who was checking her watch. "You sure you're not coming in?"

"Well, how the hell are you going to unlock the doors – you'll need me if you're breaking and entering skills are anything to go by," she said, sounding uncomfortable and angry. "Otherwise you'll set off every damned alarm."

"Again, the woman has a point," Wally said, wheezing a little and sounding strained as Cruz climbed onto his shoulders, prizing the window open. "I...knew...she was the...brains of the...trio."

It took very little time to get them all in, with Wally being the less spritely – he rolled onto the floor with a thud, taking a few moments to catch his breath. They stood in the main foyer; dark and desolate, the air seemed almost ghostly. They'd done their homework. The school was locked, but not guarded. They were safe.

"So, how are we going to exact our revenge...exactly..." Wally said, hands on hips.

"I've got something in mind," Cruz said, pointing to the main studio. "Think you can get us in Kristen?"

"I think so," she said nervously, fishing behind the reception desk. "Without much trouble," she added, holding up some keys. Wally looked almost disappointed as she strolled over to them and handed Cruz the keys.

"Is it wrong that I'm enjoying myself so much I'm considering felony as my life's occupation?" Wally asked, with a crooked grin.

"Yes," Kristen murmured, as Cruz pushed open the door and walked inside. "Very wrong."

XXXXX

Jesse Harper frowned as she stepped out of her car and pulled her bag from the backseat. Spencer waited patiently as her sister gathered her things and locked the 4x4, juggling an arm full of folders to do so.

"Do you want me to take some of that?" Spencer asked, tucking her hair behind her ears and pointing to her sister's files.

Jesse hesitated. "Yeah, if you wouldn't mind," she said finally. Spencer took them and glanced at Jesse's pale face; she looked drawn and troubled once again, and for no apparent reason. The school was running smoothly - no one could deny Jesse was doing a great job. They didn't have any real concerns in life, and yet she seemed bothered. Her sister could be a puzzle sometimes.

"Is something the matter?" she asked carefully.

Jesse shook her head as she smoothed he blouse. "I just didn't sleep well last night. I just had this really bizarre dream - you know the kind where you try to wake yourself up from it and as soon as you close your eyes, you just pick up where you left off?"

Spencer nodded with a smile.

"Well, that was why I didn't sleep well," Jesse said rather blankly as they reached the front of the school. She had dreamt she was in Swan Lake once again - as Odette surprisingly, a role she'd never undertaken - and every move she made got stiffer and slower as if she were dancing through treacle. And the front row of the audience comprised of the board members of Fell's Point, cheering and laughing as she froze in place. To top it all off, she could see Blake Collins' smug face a few rows back, just as she came to abrupt stop and unable to move, he rose and clapped, causing a standing ovation throughout the auditorium. She had finally collapsed as they all jeered her, delighting in her failure, and no matter how many times she awoke herself, the nightmare either started again or continued.

Jesse snapped out of her thoughts as she braced the steps of the school; the students were murmuring excitedly, and there was an air of panic. When one student spotted her, they all seemed to and had the good grace to part in sobriety like the Red Sea, coming to a hushed silence. They were crowded around the main studio, where the school janitor was standing looking dismayed. When he saw her, he rushed forward.

"Director Harper," he stuttered. He was an elderly man, with thick grey eyebrows and a hook nose. "You better take a look at this."

She allowed herself to be lead to the studio door, but from there she took control and strode in to the centre of the room alone, standing amidst the chaos. Students pressed against the glass to watch her reaction, including Spencer who waited in tenterhooks to see what her sister would do. She knew better than anyone Jesse had a hidden temper, and this would surely spark it.

Suddenly, Director Harper walked briskly towards the door, her heels clacking and echoing loudly as she did so. Spencer lingered at the doorway, shifting from one trainer to another nervously.

"Jesse," she whispered. "What's going on?"

Jesse ignored her and stepped through the crowd. She turned to face them all in once quick movement. When she spoke it was clearly and blankly. "Studio A is off limits for the time being. Anyone with any information will come and see me first period, regardless of classes." She paced away leaving them in a stunned silence. Spencer bit her lip - this had to be something to do with Ben and Meaghan; she'd known the whole school rivalry thing would lead to nothing but trouble. And now the studio was completely destroyed. She'd have to go to her sister later, and encourage Ben and Meaghan to do the same. Not that they would - they were far more concerned with saving their own hides.

When she reached her office, Jesse spotted her receptionist Heidi, who had clearly seen her coming from and anticipated her wishes, judging by the calm but pale face. A grim expression passed between the women, echoing a shared outrage at the state of the studio.

"I want Blake Collins in the phone. Now," Jesse said, now allowing her voice to shake with rage, for she knew it couldn't when she spoke to him.

"Already done, Director," Heidi said. "He's on line one, waiting."

XXXXX


	8. Confrontation

Chapter 8 – Confrontation

"I had a brunch to attend," Matthew muttered in a low voice to Blake as they waited one of MSI's conference room where they'd arranged to meet with Director Harper. Blake frowned as he glanced at his wrist watch and adjusted his tie slightly. He was feeling tense. The call from Jesse's receptionist had surprised him and he'd been even more startled when a very vitriolic Jesse had come on the phone demanding a meeting with him that morning. His heart had sunk at the words "vandalism", "arrested", "common criminals" and alike, but suddenly midway through her rant, he had snapped. He didn't know if his students were involved but they were still his students, and somewhere along the line he had grown protective of them.

"I'm sure it'll all be over soon," he replied quietly. "Then you can go to your brunch."

Matthew glanced over at him. "What do you plan on doing?"

"It depends on the extent of the damage."

"They broke in – she might want to press charges."

"I'll try and talk her out of it," Blake sighed. "What else can I do? I'll have to compromise somewhere along the line."

"Fell's Point will never let us live this down," Matthew huffed, taking his glasses off to clean them. "What on earth were the students thinking?"

Before Blake could reply, the door opened and he saw Lisa showing some people through. 'Director Collins," Jesse said as she entered the room in a skirt suit jacket, making a beeline for the chair without so much as pausing to look at him. She was followed by a board member, who looked a cross between smug and displeased. "Always a pleasure." Her voice was dripping with sarcasm, and as she sat down she dropped a file she had brought with her loudly in front of her. Her face wasn't full of anger, but she made it perfectly clear she wasn't happy. Blake had stood as she came in to shake her hand but she didn't make a motion towards him.

"Though not particularly desirable circumstances," he said curtly, placing his hands in front to him as he sat back down.

Jesse raised an eyebrow. "No. Not exactly."

Matthew shifted uncomfortably in his chair, glowering at those representing Fell's Point, and glanced at Blake. "Let's just begin shall we?"

"Certainly," Jesse said clearly, opening her file and sliding a piece of paper from it across the table to Blake. He took it slowly, glanced over it and laid it back down again.

"What is this?" he asked, frowning.

"That is the cost of damage caused by your students," Jesse said.

Blake scoffed. "This is far too high - they broke a few mirrors Miss Harper. They didn't torch the place."

"I don't care, Mr. Collins. That's the full price of the damage caused. Your students trespassed and violated school property," Jesse replied, raising her voice a little.

"Not without provocation," Blake snapped back. "I warned you that your students were harassing mine, making their lives difficult, _bullying _them," he said accusingly, "and you let it go unchecked. They were pushed to their limit!"

"Ok, forgive me," Jesse laughed coldly, "Last time I checked teasing someone wasn't a criminal offense."

"That's hardly the point..."

"That's exactly the point!" Jesse cried. "I'm not condoning what my students did, but yours retaliated by doing something _illegal, _Director," she said with a frown.

"And you have _proof_ my students were involved?"

"CCTV footage," Jesse nodded firmly. "Which is a damn sight more evidence than you have of mine 'harassing' yours."

Blake narrowed his eyes and heaved a heavy sigh. "So, what do you propose? That the students or the school pay for damages? Or do you want to press criminal charges, and ruin the futures of my students while yours get away with nothing more than a slapped wrist?"

"My students didn't break into your school and vandalise it!" Jesse almost shouted, causing a silence to ring out in the conference room. Matthew pushed his glasses up his nose, unsure how to proceed and looked at both Jesse and Blake, seething at each other.

"We'll never get anywhere throwing the same statements back at one another," he said in a quiet, authoritative voice.

"No, you're right," Jesse said, sitting back and practically seething. "I'll let Director Collins explain to me exactly how he's going to rectify the situation."

Blake paused as everyone in the room sat there expectantly, waiting for him to reply. He had to come up with a solution that pleased everybody, and while he had a nasty feeling Jesse wanted blood on the matter, he knew she wasn't unreasonable. It may require a lack of dignity to save face, he realised and slowly, as an idea came to him, he leant forward on his elbows to speak.

"I have a proposition," he started calmly. "Those involved from MSA will not only work here to clear up the mess, but will continue to do so until the cost of the damage is repaid. As janitors or handymen."

Jesse inhaled passively and leant forward just as he had. "How can I trust them? What if I can't keep my eyes on them?"

Blake gritted his teeth - she answered just as he had expected her too; like _he_ would. "The humiliation will be enough to ensure that nothing like this happens again. However, I will personally supervise them."

There was a murmur from the board member beside Jesse, and she tilted her head gently to hear their whisper. "How long will you stay?" she asked quietly.

"Until the debt is repaid." He paused. "I'm sorry that this happened; truthfully, I'm ashamed. But they can't afford this - it's the only solution I can see that benefits everyone. Except calling the police charging them officially," he added darkly. His tone obviously made Jesse bristled, and she frowned, sitting forward in a very thoughtful stupor. Finally, she sat up straight and addressed him.

"I'm not in the business of 'ruining' other people's futures," she concluded quietly, with a sharp glare at Blake which didn't move him from his resolute and stony expression. "That arrangement will be fine." She rose from her chair, everyone else in the room following suit, and stuck out a hand to Blake. "You can also rest assured, Mr. Collins, that my students won't go without punishment."

He nodded, noting the calm sincerity of her tone, and took her hand firmly. It was cold, like ice, and he realised with some surprise she was shaking a little. Whether it was rage or nerves he couldn't tell; her mouth was setting in a grim line and her expression unwavering.

"We'll make contact some time during the week to arrange when you'll come to Fell's Point," the board member said stiffly, with a cordial smile. Matthew thanked him with the same stiffness - the same way they would always acknowledge each other, with hatred bubbling under the surface. Jesse picked up the file and was the first to leave the room, swiftly followed by her accompanying board member. Matthew blinked and Blake and patted him on the back.

"You managed to smooth talk your way out of three convictions and a lump sum," he said quietly. "It went well, son. You could look a little pleased."

"I'm not Matthew," Blake said, with a heavy sigh. "The cost isn't physical but I'm certainly going to pay for it."

XXXXX

"I have absolutely no idea what on earth you were thinking!" Blake shouted at the three teenagers in front of him. "I might have expected something like this from Mr. Bellasario," he said with a glare at the Italian boy who was cowering in his seat, his ego evading him, "but from you, Kristen and Michael...I'm very surprised."

Michael shook his head, making his hair shake. "Kristen wasn't involved, Director. She didn't break anything."

"But she's still on CCTV footage, helping you two to break in," Blake retorted coolly. "Nice try though."

Michael paled and slouched further in his seat.

"So are we suspended or...expelled?" Kristen asked in a timid voice. Blake sighed.

"If Director Harper had her way, you'd already be at a juvenile detention centre," he said. "However, we've reached a compromise. You're going to work at the school a few nights a week and all day Saturday, to settle your debt."

"Work..." Michael repeated slowly.

"Yes Wolowitz," Blake replied sarcastically. "It's the thing that everybody has to do to earn money. Except instead of earning it, you're paying it back."

Michael and Cruz exchanged glances, as they didn't dare roll their eyes, and Blake continued. "You'll be working as janitors after you've cleaned up the mess you made. Fitz and Wolowitz - you're in luck because your buddy here, Bellasario, is an expert in the field of sanitation after his stint with Bob a few months ago. So I _expect_ you to do a good job," he added menacingly, glaring at them all.

"Do our parents have to drop us off?" Kristen asked, swallowing hard. Her parents were less than happy about her involvement in the vandalism of Fell's Point and had grounded her for the foreseeable future. Having to take her to her punishment –as just as it was – would be an inconvenience that might cause so disgruntlement around the dinner table. Cruz, it seemed, had escaped with bruises from his angry, hot blooded mother's grasp, though she had screeched in Italian about how he had shamed his father's memory and she'd punish him thus by 'removing his head and using to make passata'. Wally's parents were still in Japan – he was lucky. He presumed he'd be grounded too when they'd gotten over the shock of him doing something so wild. Breaking and entering was about as far away from his usual night time routine of _World of Warcraft_, _Assassins Creed_ and _Rock Band_ as it could get.

Blake folded his arms. "No. You'll be taking the school minivan. I'm going to be supervising your 'detentions' so I'll take you from here."

The three teenagers sat there in a dumbstruck silence. They'd always assumed that Collins had a maid, so the revelation he'd be scrubbing and cleaning with them was shocking.

"You can leave," Blake said glancing at the clock. "You have lessons and I have work to do that doesn't involve lecturing people who should know better."

The three rose slowly in a glum stupor, glancing at the man who was already sat at his desk, pouring over work. As if working for enemy wasn't bad enough, Major Buzzkill would be breathing down their necks too. Consequences were a bitch.


	9. The Beginning Of A Beautiful Friendship

_A/N: Hallo! The title of the chapter is from the movie "Casablanca" but is a little ironic; obviously this chapter marks the start of Jesse and Blake's beautiful friendship, but...er...they don't see it that way themselves. Enjoy!_

Chapter 9 – The Beginning of A Beautiful Friendship

"Wow," Wally said in a low voice. "So this is what hell looks like." He paused, looking around the foyer. "It's really big."

Cruz flashed him a grin. "You didn't expect hell to be small, when it has to hold so many evil, stuck-up..."

"Let's keep any opinions we have about those who attend this academy to _ourselves_, shall we Mr. Bellasario?" Blake said as he approached the group, pocketing the school minibus keys and folding his arms. Since it was Saturday, and he was going to be cleaning, he'd decided against wearing his customary suit although being in a professional place without it felt alien. Even the teenagers' eyes had grown wide at the sight of him a pair of nondescript jeans and a dark top.

The school was empty, as was to be expected on a weekend, which only added to the eeriness and the uncomfortable atmosphere of Fell's Point. Michael wasn't lying when he said it was a large building; whenever someone spoke or made a sound it seemed to reverberate throughout the school. Blake couldn't imagine what it would sound like with a thousand students shouting as they walked from one class to another. Or perhaps the students at Fell's Point didn't shout, he thought with a little bitterness. Such uncouthness was beyond their breeding.

The sound of someone else's footprints shook him from his thoughts and Blake turned his head just in time to see Jesse approaching them across the foyer. She too wore jeans and a simple top, with her hair tied back into a long straight ponytail.

"Good morning," she said to them all with a cordial expression that was neither pleased nor angry. She gave him a nod. "Mr. Collins...I'm Director Harper," she said to the students, shaking their hands. They seemed surprised; in truth, Blake was. The last thing he had expected after their meeting was a polite welcome - he had been prepared for stiffness and attitude. It seemed she had lost her smirk along with her skirt and heels. Perhaps she had had time to calm down, he thought with some amusement. Or, which was far more likely, they were on her terms and turf now - once again she had the upper hand, and the control.

"I'll take you to the studio first," she said, turning, indicating for them to follow. "We left it exactly as you did. I thought you'd benefit from seeing it in the daylight," she said, glancing at Blake and pushing open a door that had curtains drawn across its windows. Blake stepped inside first and immediately let out an agitated sigh as he looked around the room.

He could understand why Jesse was perturbed; he remembered how he'd felt when the 410 crew had broken in a year back and completely trashed a smaller studio. The mirrors were broken, everyone of them, chairs turned up, the barré knocked over, papers scattered everywhere (where they'd come from he couldn't tell without picking one up, and he was too stunned to move) and notice boards torn down. He closed his eyes briefly before glaring at his students, who had the good sense to at least look sheepish. Jesse stood by the doorway still, face blank and without any emotion he could read.

"I'll go get you some equipment," she said clearly. "You can wait here."

As soon as she had gone, leaving them all in the studio, Blake turned to them with a furious stare.

"I can't believe you did this!" he hissed. "I am beyond disappointment and being ashamed!" He looked around again, eyes wide with shock.

"Director, we're sorry," Cruz started to say, but Blake snapped his head to him so quickly, the boy fell silent.

"Your apologies aren't good enough," he said in a quiet voice, clipped and laced with venom. At that moment, Jesse re-entered carry a mop and bucket, followed by some people. Blake frowned as they filed into the room – only two in all – the boy he recognized from the Christmas Showcase…Ben something…and a thin blonde girl, looking very glum.

"What's this?" Blake asked, putting his hands on his hips.

"This is Ben Whittcombe, and Meaghan Harrison – Spencer will be along shortly with more mops. They were responsible for harassing your students to the point of vandalism," Jesse explained. She gestured them over to stand with the other students, though there was a noticeable gap between them when then did, and Jesse herself paced over to where Blake stood. "I told you that my students would be punished. They need to learn that there are consequences to their actions," she said in a hushed voice with her arms folded. "I'm less than impressed with what happened here, but I can't deny that my students were to blame, and I'm...sorry."

Blake struggled for words. "That...sounds reasonable."

She smiled. "Do you want to talk to them or shall I?"

"We'll both tackle it," Blake said clearly, gaining his composure. "Since it's both our problem."

Jesse nodded. "Right students," she said loudly over the top of the murmurs. "Listen up. Get cosy because these are your cleaning buddies for the foreseeable future." There was a groan amongst them that was quickly silenced by both the Directors' stares. "So how about you introduce yourself and get acquainted and then I'll explain what jobs need doing."

"This is so unfair," Meaghan muttered rolling her eyes.

"Director Harper, we didn't even do this!" Ben said, waving his arms at the mess around the room. She stepped forward.

"We've been through this Whittcombe," she said in a low voice. "Your actions lead to this, and as a result you're going to share the workload. I'd also like to witness an attitude change in all of you. This is not how it works in the real world," she said, addressing them all, arms folded, as Blake watched on. "You can't get even with someone because they've upset you," she said, glancing over Michael, Cruz and Kristen. "And you can't treat people like they're a sub species, simply because they go to a different school, or come from a different neighbourhood…"

"It's just the way it's always been," Meaghan interjected.

"So that may be, Harrison," Jesse said coldly. "But that's not the way it's going to stay." She paused with a heavy sigh. "I think you'll find that people like Hitler and Mussolini had the same outlook – people who are different are less than you – and I find it disturbing that you think that's ok."

The pair looked very uncomfortable all of a sudden.

"Makes sense I guess," Wally muttered to Cruz and Kristen. "I'm a Jew, you're Italian, you're Mom is Swedish…we're the ethnic minority."

"Wolowitz," Blake warned. The boy fell into a silence one more. Jesse glanced at Blake.

"Was there anything you wanted to add Director Collins?"

"I think you covered it," he said, puffing out his chest slightly. "But I agree – I want to see an attitude change in all of you. Hopefully by the end of this all, you might even have learnt something from one another."

"I doubt that," Ben sniped, pushing his bucket around with his foot. "Unless I want to learn petty crime."

Cruz started toward him, muttering Italian, but both Kristen and Wally grabbed him and held him back. Jesse pointed a finger at Ben.

"Watch it Whittcombe. That's what got you into this mess. Your mouth. So start thinking about what's coming out of it. Don't think because Daddy's on the board I'm going to let you get away with remarks like that." Her words seemed to quell Ben slightly and he didn't say anything more. Jesse turned to Blake with an expression of exasperation. "Why do I get the feeling this isn't going to be the easiest of partnerships?"

He cocked an eyebrow. Because it was just as Meaghan had said – this was the way it had always been, and it wasn't going to change overnight. Especially when the Directors could barely see eye to eye. The door opened once more and a dark haired girl with a scruffy Ramones t-shirt and grey sweatpants on, barged through, her arms full with mops. "Where do you want these?" she asked Jesse, who seemed to wave her hand dismissively while she continued to address the group.

"Right, let's get started. None of you are going anywhere until this room is back to how it was, understand?"

They all murmured incoherent replies and the dark haired girl, who was looking a little lost, cleared her throat. "Jesse? The mops?"

"Just put them down Spencer," Jesse told her, sounding a little curt. Blake frowned. She let her students call her _Jesse_? How very bohemian. But the familiar tone of the girl was different from that of the others in a way he couldn't replace. Jesse turned her back on her, and began to direct the others to different areas of the room, telling them what they should start with.

"Sure thing," Spencer sighed, doing as she was told. She lay all the mops down but one and stood apart from group, propping herself up on her mop as she waited to be told what to do next. Spotting Blake, she looked at him with a searching expression and flashed him a friendly smile.

"You must be Director Collins then," she said conversationally, pacing over and sticking out a hand. "You're not how I pictured. I'm Spencer."

Blake eyed her hand dubiously and shook it, one eyebrow raised at her. "Hello."

She was smiling at him widely in an overly familiar way, as if she knew him already and yet he was quite sure he hadn't met her before. "Jesse's told me a lot about you," she added.

"She has?" he replied coldly, fighting his surprise. She was discussing him with her students? That was beyond bohemian - that was simply unprofessional. He gritted his teeth as his mind began to wonder what she'd disclosed.

"Well, not _a lot._ But I've been quite interested to meet you in person. I'm interested in anyone who can give my sister a run for her money. The job can't just fall to me," she shrugged, joking.

"Sister?" he found himself exclaiming before he could stop himself. The two Harpers looked at him, and sure enough, the family resemblance was immediately apparate when it hadn't been before; similar hair colour, similar jaw line, same figure. Although, their eyes were a different colour and while Jesse's features were a little sharper, Spencer seemed more baby faced.

"You didn't know?" Spencer asked, glancing at her sister with wide eyes for a bit of support.

"No. I didn't. Sister?" he repeated, accusingly.

"Yes," Jesse said glibly from where she was helping Cruz with a mop head, "this is Spencer, my sister."

"Your _sister_ was involved," Blake said incredulously. "Now it all makes sense."

Jesse tensed her jaw, handed Cruz the mop head, and walked over to Blake, rubbing her forehead as she did so. "What makes sense?" she hissed.

"Well, firstly, your reluctance to do anything about the bullying..." he started. Jesse rolled her eyes, which surprised him, and he realised that she had finally lost her patience. The thought startled him, when she was usually so in control of her emotions, and had been so calm since they arrived. He'd been naive to think that she wasn't still angry, but looking at the room, at least he could understand why.

"You haven't got a clue," she said tersely, and he couldn't help but feel she wanted to add the words 'you idiot' onto the end. She didn't however.

"I think I understand perfectly," he started to say but she interrupted him.

"Director Collins," she said under her breath, glancing at the students who were watching interestedly. "I suggest _strongly _that we try to keep a united front, otherwise we're going to be a very poor example to those we're trying to correct. So anything you might want to say to me with regards to how I have or have not handled this situation, would you mind waiting until we're not being watched?"

Blake clenched his jaw and folded his arms, but didn't speak. He gave her a curt nod to which she replied "Thank you," though nothing in her tone conveyed gratitude. She brushed past her sister, quickly exiting the room. The other students were standing in a perturbed, awkward silence, wondering how on earth they should proceed. Spencer turned her head to Blake and frowned at him.

"Sorry about that."

He didn't respond.

"Just so you know - I wasn't actually involved in the bullying," Spencer said quietly. "I tried to make them stop."

His head snapped towards her with a glare. "Then why spend your Saturday here with those who were?" Blake asked, fighting the urge to replace 'those' with 'these arrogant miscreants'.

"Because, my sister is the Director and I _was_ there," Spencer said with a crooked grin. "Even if I didn't pick on your students, it'd still look like I used Jesse to get me off the hook. Which she most categorically did not..._would not_. I'd rather wash windows than be seen doing that."

Inhaling deeply, he pondered her words. "You remind me of my brother," Blake said wistful smirk, thinking about all the times Chase worked unnecessarily hard - simply because he wanted to make his own way and not be seen taking favours from his brother. Not that Blake would have given him many; his viewpoint was much the same as Spencer claimed Jesse's was. Chase would have never gotten anywhere, riding off the back of opportunities handed to him. "I have feeling you'd get on well with that attitude."

"Maybe. Is he anything like you?" Spencer asked with a slight smirk. Blake looked at her with a frown.

"I'm not sure how I'm supposed to take that," he replied. Spencer gave him a big grin and picked her bucket up, not volunteering anything else and walking away.

XXXXX

By the afternoon, the students were working in a comfortable silence, with only a few murmurs passing between their own 'sides' but neither group conversed with the enemy unless it was to say 'excuse me' or 'can I just?' or 'please pass the sanitizer.'

Blake had done very little apart from help collect the papers and take them to a recycling bin. Jesse herself had only acted as a supervising presence; standing over the students, answering questions. She'd spoken to him twice - once to confirm the schedule that Ben, Cruz, Meaghan, Michael and Kristen would be sticking to over the next few weeks and then to tell him that she understood he must have work to do (she did, after all) so if he wanted she'd could arrange for a temporary desk to be set up in the studio when they were working in there, and a classroom for when they weren't. He'd been surprised at her offer, and only nodded in a noncommittal way. She didn't seem bothered by his lack of gratitude.

She'd left the studio briefly when everyone began to eat lunch, returning with Spencer's but nothing for herself. He couldn't help but watch her, study her - perhaps he was looking for her Achilles' heel - but he didn't see anything out of the ordinary. She was calm and controlled once again, and not impolite; above all she seemed to have acquired a quiet respect from the students, even his own. Jesse seemed almost blasé - as if being here wasn't an inconvenience, just something that she was going to take in her stride - though even Blake recognised the tired eyes and the discreet yawns.

He realised, with some horror, watching Jesse must be like watching him. Absorbed, focused, the job first. Although...people seemed to like her a lot more than him. He supposed it was because she was an attractive woman and he...well...wasn't.

A man tapped on the window of the studio and beckoned to Jesse, who was perched on a chair, looking over some papers. The students, who were whispering amongst themselves, laughing quietly, stopped to look but Blake noticed that the Fell Pointer's lost interest when they saw who it was. Jesse nodded to the tall man, square in build and haggard looking, and closed the door on him. Next thing he knew, she was pacing over. Blake rose just as she stopped.

"Will you be ok with them for a while?" she asked quietly. "I know it's not exactly fair, but I won't be long." He couldn't read her expression - she just seemed expectant, waiting for his answer.

"I'm sure I'm capable," he replied stiffly. "They're hardly likely to start a riot."

Her slightly raised eyebrow seemed to say everything; Ben, Kristen and Spencer certainly wouldn't but the same level of obedience couldn't be expected from his students. He folded his arms and frowned, but her amused expression had gone as quickly as it had come, leaving a weary one.

Jesse backed away heading to the door. "I have to sort out a problem with the construction workers. I promise I'll be as quick as I can."

"Construction workers?" Blake repeated, a little coldly, with a confused expression.

"Yeah," she said, mustering a smirk, though her expression was very sombre. "For the studio that's being built. The one you think I blackmailed the Mayor for?" She left as she said it, calling out the words as she walked away, leaving Blake in the room suddenly feeling very angry.

"You're getting a new studio?" Wally asked Meaghan and Ben with a gaping mouth, having overheard their Directors.

"Yes, courtesy of the Mayor of Baltimore," Meaghan said smugly. "State of the art. It's going to be huge." Spencer sighed hard and threw the rest of her sandwich into the lunch bag in front of her. If Meaghan noticed Spencer's reaction, she didn't give it away, blinking carefully as she pulled a bagel apart with her fingers.

Spencer rose, dusting herself off clumsily and heading to where one of the bin bags they'd been filling - where Blake stood passively – to dispose of what was left of her lunch. She seemed to pause beside him again and opened her mouth to speak, but shaking her head, stepped away. Blake watched her movements curiously, and seconds later she turned and walked back to him.

"Look, I'm not bothered by all this 'my school's better than yours' stuff," she said in a low voice, ignoring his confused frown. "But my sister isn't a bad person, and she's in the same boat as you."

"I beg to differ," he retorted, a little affronted by her sudden confrontation. "Our boats are very much separate."

Spencer shrugged, brushing her hair from her face. "Whatever. But you have her all wrong." She paused, faltering a little as if debating whether or not to say anything. "She'll _kill_ me if she ever finds out I told you, but she actually tried to get the Mayor to make the bid out to your school." Blake raised a disbelieving eyebrow and looked away; he was sick of one Harper sister playing him like a fiddle, and now it seemed the younger one was trying. But Spencer's face was open and genuine, and he wavered in his cynicism briefly.

"Right. Why don't you go and rejoin the others?" he suggested, trying to bring an end to the conversation.

Spencer sighed. "What reason have I got to lie? I reckon she almost convinced him, apart from the fact he's Meaghan's grandfather and is probably more than a little biased."

Blake's eyes darted toward the blonde girl who was now opening a yogurt. That made sense, he supposed. Looking out for one's own. He hadn't known the Mayor had connections with Fell's Point – he'd only been in office a few months. The only part that seemed unlikely was Jesse Harper giving up a brand new studio for MSA, when she had made it perfectly clear that this was a competition and she intended on winning.

Giving up the studio for a rival school didn't sound the Jesse Harper he'd grown accustomed to.

"But for whatever reason," Spencer carried on, still whispering and rolling her eyes. "She's as determined as you are to keep up this 'war' so she doesn't want you to know."

"Then why tell me?" Blake frowned.

"Because you were hating on my sister," Spencer shrugged. "Unjustly. And it's my job to look out for her, even if she doesn't want me to."

In an instant, Blake Collins was torn. Whatever he thought of her sister, at Spencer's words he had been reminded once again of Chase; that genuine, protective quality that his brother exuded by the bucket load was evidently present in the younger Harper too. She had no reason to lie, and he was erring towards believing her.

"Is that so?"

"If you can't take my word for it, ring the Mayor." Blake shook his head at her suggestion and glanced off, catching the eye of Ben who was watching them curiously and glowering so hard at him that the boy looked back to his lunch sheepishly.

"One redeeming act, _if_ it is true," he added stiffly, "doesn't excuse the grief she's given me."

Spencer raised an eyebrow. "Oh, because you're totally guilt free." And with that she turned on her heels to return to her group. He opened his mouth to say something but before he could, Jesse had returned to the room, clapping her hands and declaring it was time to get back to work.


	10. Ab Convenienti

_A/N: The title comes from a __Latin phrase meaning "from an inconvenient thing" which alludes to the idea that a particular train of reasoning is quite difficult. Which I thought was similar to how Blake feels over the idea that Jesse isn't an evil hag after all, and that might lead to him having difficulty hating her. Perhaps a bit stretchy and I may have repeated myself a lot – it was a difficult chapter to write, and it's all from Blake's POV. Not that that is a bad thing. Anyway, enjoy! _

Chapter 10 – Ab Inconvenienti

He had no intention of calling the Mayor at all, no matter what Spencer said. That would be a quiet resignation, and there was no way Blake was doing that. He couldn't care less if Jesse Harper had a shred of goodness in her; he wasn't at Fell's Point to be friends with her, he was there to do a job. The moral content of her soul wasn't his business.

But curiosity began to eat away at him. He couldn't make head or tail over why Jesse would do something like that; in his mind, up to this point, she'd been all about self preservation, not about goodwill. It got him thinking - perhaps her actions had an agenda. Perhaps she knew that Spencer would say something and that it would lull him into a false sense of security, leaving him vulnerable to her next point of attack.

He dismissed the idea quickly because, on one hand Spencer seemed too genuine to pull a stunt like that, and on the other he was beginning to sound extremely paranoid and a little bit crazy. Somewhat like Matthew and his mother.

So what if Spencer was telling the truth? Blake was right - one good deed did not cancel out all the conniving behaviour he'd seen in Jesse and neither was he going to drop to her feet, all forgiving, if it _was_ true. He suspected that the youngest Harper thought that by telling him, he'd soften up on her sister - that was all. It was quite endearing, if you thought about it that way.

A week later, after he'd finished the Fell's Point Community Service with his students (they'd been varnishing floors amongst other things), he found himself pulling on a suit and tie, ready for another function. He was tired, but showing his face was mandatory, since it was a dinner organised by his mother. The penalty of not attending would most likely be painful.

Just as he was headed out the door, the phone rang shrilly. He deliberated over answering it, but when he bent down and saw it was Chase on the caller ID, he picked it up.

"Hey Blake, it's me," his brother drawled down the phone. "Are you free to talk?"

"You've actually caught me at a bad time," replied Blake, hoping he sounded apologetic enough. "I'm just on my way out. Mom's arranged this small dinner with some of our benefactors..."

"Yuck. Sucks to be you bro."

"Once again Chase, your support is completely overwhelming," Blake deadpanned, checking his watch. "And it's also making me late, so can I call you back?"

"Sure," his brother chuckled, "I only rang to say I found a course and I'm gonna email the deets over for you to...you know, take a look at."

"Give it my seal of approval, you mean?" Blake smirked.

"Yeah, like I need your say so on anything," retorted Chase with a snort. "It's just you're such a know-it-all about these sort of things, and a second opinion would be useful."

"I'm sure there was a compliment in there somewhere." Blake checked his watch again, out of nervous habit, and picked up his car keys. "Send them over, and I'll ring you when I've looked at them."

"Alright. Enjoy torture!" Chase said cheerily, showing no sympathy for his brother, even though he'd have been forced to endure the same fate had he been there. Blake hung up on him before Chase had the chance to; it was somewhat childish, Blake had to admit, but he got a little bit of satisfaction from it, almost as if he'd had the last word after all.

XXXXX

Blake sat down where his mother motioned for him to go, rising just a few moments later to shake the hand of one of the guests. He recognised most of them – benefactors largely, all here as way of thank you. The board had been forced into attendance too, not that they minded, and Blake noticed how he and Matthew had been separated, probably because he knew his mother truly wasn't satisfied unless he was completely miserable at these things. They were necessary, but dull, and everyone asked the same questions. Still, Blake liked the restaurant they were at; he'd been there before a few times and the food was something he could look forward to. Without realising it, he hadn't eaten a thing since breakfast and was very hungry.

"Are we all ready to order?" asked his mother when the waiter came over to the large table. There were several murmurs for the house special – mussels – and Margaret and Matthew both ordered the veal. "I think I'll have the lamb," Frances mused.

"Pork tenderloin," Blake said simply, handing the young man his menu, glancing over his shoulder just in time to see a large man being shown to their table. He recognised him simply by looking at him; they'd met before. Even if he hadn't have met him, his round, old face was known throughout Baltimore. But he hadn't known his mother had invited him and neither was he particularly pleased to see him.

"Mayor!" Frances cooed loudly, rising and kissing the tall man on both cheeks before showing him to an empty seat, directly opposite Blake - much to his chagrin. "I didn't think you could make it this evening."

"I rearranged a few things," the man smiled, picking up the menu. "I hate missing your get-togethers Frances, you know that." She waved a hand dismissively as the new guest turned his attentions to the menu. "I hope I'm not too late."

"On the contrary Mayor Bloom," Matthew interjected from where he sat. "We only just ordered."

"Well, I'll make it easy. I've had a hankering for the veal here – my wife tells me it's superb. Hello Blake," he said, spotting Blake across from him. "How're you keeping?"

"I'm fine," Blake nodded. "Yourself?"

"Oh, fine, fine. You know me. Working hard, hardly working." Blake fought his grimace as the man laughed and turned it into a wide pretend smile that he was well accustomed to using.

"You didn't mention Mayor Bloom was coming," Blake hissed discreetly to his mother when the man was engaged elsewhere.

"He wasn't, that's why," Frances hissed back. "And I want you to be on your best behaviour. We might have lost out on that grant, but I want to ensure we're his first choice next time."

Blake took a mouthful of his wine and glanced at his watch. Why did it feel like it was going to be a long night?

Their food arrived shortly, interrupting the general conversation across the table briefly, but once they were all eating, it started again. His mother was in good spirits and in full schmooze mode, as she complimented Bloom's new policies that had been drawn afresh for the upcoming election. Blake knew exactly what she was up to; he'd already had the lecture from her and the board for not trying hard enough to earn the grant from the Mayor. But in light of recent information, what chance had he stood?

"Oh, Blake, I haven't seen you since to say," piped up Jonathan Westby, an ex-board member and now benefactor, "but your Christmas pageant was wonderful. I didn't believe you could outdo yourself after last year, but it was very thrilling."

"Thank you John," Blake replied. "It wasn't without hard work I can tell you. But it paid off."

"It certainly did. And Trent Norman looked sick when I saw him leaving," the man continued. Blake stiffened – Trent Norman was a Fell's Point board member. His eyes darted towards Mayor Bloom who seemed to be focused on his plate at first. The old man looked up and towards Frances.

"Ah yes," Bloom smiled. "I forget about this MSA versus FPA thing. Still going strong?"

"Just a bit of healthy competition," said Frances, putting down her knife and fork, even though she had nearly half a plate full. Blake had never seen his mother finish a meal. "How on earth can anyone expect to improve themselves without a goal? I can't recall who said it but I read a quote that went "competition creates better products", and that's true enough isn't it – if we believe someone is outperforming us, won't we push ourselves to be the best we can be?" she asked.

"Frances, have you ever considered taking office?"

She laughed the compliment away. "I'm far too busy for politics Mayor Bloom." Blake fought a snort and simply drank some wine instead. She was waist deep in politics.

"I have seen Fell's Point's dance program though," countered Mayor Bloom. "They're really catching up, so you might have to push a little hard if you want to stay as their equal." He might has well have dropped a nuclear warhead in the middle of the table, the stunned reaction would have been the same. But no one stayed stunned for long though and laughed along with the man, as Blake exchanged an anxious glance with his mother.

"I suppose it's their new Director," said another benefactor matter of factly, as if he were discussing the cream sauce on his mussels.

"She's something," the Mayor assured him, oblivious to the tension he'd caused. "Trying to catapult that school into the future, if she can."

"I hear she's very intent on fixing the problems FPA has had with their dance record. It's no wonder they brought in a former prima," smiled Margaret. "Who better than someone who knows the ins and outs of dance? After all, Blake's testament enough to that." Blake didn't miss the glance thrown in his direction. It was slightly reassuring to know that his board hadn't given up hope in him.

"No doubt a new studio will prove beneficial to her plans," Matthew mused languidly, barely looking at the man as he spoke, fingering his wine glass with a wicked smile.

"Well...now..." Bloom seemed to suddenly realise he was surrounded by those who were loyal to MSA through and through, and like a gazelle cornered by hungry lions out for the kill, his eyes grew wide and he laughed nervously. "I don't mean to _offend _anyone_._"

"No one's offended Mayor," Blake said smoothly.

"Speak for yourself," Margaret muttered. Blake glowered at her – if he could hear it, Bloom could.

"I suppose you're all spitting teeth over the studio," Bloom sniffed, leaning back for a moment from his food and looking them all in the face. "Look, it was a tough decision but at the end of the day I believe I made the right one. And there'll be other grants in the future."

"And where does that leave MSA now?" asked Frances, not raising her voice but still managing to deliver her question so deftly it made the Mayor pale.

"Mom, just let it go," Blake told her in a low voice, touching her arm. She jerked it away.

"If you'll excuse me," she said sweetly. "I need to go to the bathroom." Frances rose quickly and walked away, leaving the others at the table in a quiet stupor until the general chatter rose again, and it was just Blake and the Mayor who remained silent.

"I did consider both schools for the grant," Mayor Bloom replied carefully after a few moments. "And undoubtedly MSA could have done with a new studio."

"But Fell's Point had stronger ties," finished Blake quietly, giving him a probing look. The Mayor shifted nervously under Blake's knowing gaze but quickly regained his composure.

"It's no secret my granddaughter attends FPA," the man stated. "And I came close to giving it MSA, I really did. But in the end, I weighed up all the factors, and the board's insistence on the matter overruled any of Jesse Harper's arguments," he sighed, popping a piece of veal in his mouth.

Blake's head snapped up from where he'd been looking and straight at Mayor Bloom. "Jesse Harper?" he asked blankly, but groaning inwardly. He'd almost forgotten, and the sound of her name was like a punch to the stomach. Here was the confirmation he'd been fighting so hard against. He hadn't wanted to know, and now he wasn't being presented with an option.

The other man chewed slowly in a thoughtful way and nodded. "She might have been a politician herself," he said, pointing his fork at Blake. "Just about convinced me on the matter. Unfortunately, the Fell's Point board were right - with the new dance program she's constructed, it made sense to give then the grant for the studio. She was out voted, and got a ticking off too for 'turning to the dark side'." The man sighed. "Plus, my granddaughter's on that program and I know how much the new studio will benefit the class."

"It would have benefited my students," snapped Blake. "Our studios need updating; mirrors need replacing, floors need relaying instead of simply being vanished repeatedly. And we're just expected to get on with it because we're in the poorer district? Because none of the students at MSA have relatives in office?"

"Now Blake, it's not about money or class," lectured Bloom. "And you get more government funding than Fell's Point because you don't have Academy status."

A fair point, but a moot one at that - the government dictated what those dollars were spent on, and that was usually the curriculum, as opposed to equipment they needed for dance. The funding system didn't take into account specialised schools like MSA. Any extra money - such as that from their benefactors - could be used towards a new studio, but at the moment it was keeping the school afloat; paying for scholarships, healthier food in the canteen and a bursary for trips when a student couldn't afford to fund it themselves. The very little that had been left when he'd started had been put towards renovations - turning the school into 'the next Julliard' and that had been at the insistence of his mother and the board. There was nothing left to fund an enormous state of the art rehearsal space.

There was no point explaining that to this man; he would simply say what they all did at FPA - stop helping those who were struggling. But the thought wrenched at Blake's chest. _People like Andie_, he thought to himself. He might have had similar views when he met her, but he was a different man in some respects now, and he didn't want to be responsible for not giving people with talent a chance, even if they couldn't pirouette.

"Not to mention that they're a studio down now," the Mayor added quietly with an eyebrow quirked. Blake clenched his fist on the table but bit down his anger.

"They weren't when you made the grant," he retorted calmly.

"No," Bloom heaved, "I guess not."

"Well," Blake said quietly, spotting his mother returning. "Perhaps next time you'll consider MSA a little more carefully. I'll invite you come to the school and see how much we were in need of your charity. But I suppose there's very little point arguing about it. What's done is done."

"I am sorry Blake, really I am," Bloom sighed. "You of all people should know what it's like to have your hands tied."

Blake didn't respond. The terrible thing was, he did.

XXXXX

Another wearisome evening, Blake thought, as he walked through the automatic doors of the mini-mart and grabbed a basket. Not that it was ending on a particularly high note either. He had a hundred and one things to do when he got home – looking at Chase's course prospectus being the priority – and dinner had run on for much longer than he'd have liked. Not to mention on the drive home he remembered he'd run out of toothpaste, breakfast and other small but fairly essential items. Luckily he was less than a mile from a local store that stayed open until the small hours of the morning when he did remember, and begrudgingly he had pulled into the parking lot.

The store was practically empty, but then again it was nearly ten o clock. Apart from the bored looking girl sitting at the till and another employee stacking the shelves, he could only see a few other people milling down the aisles with carts or baskets. He headed for the fruit section, simply because it was closest. He wanted to be done as quickly as possible; he was tired after all the smiling, and talking, and he had the makings of a bad migraine coming. The harsh lights of the store weren't helping, and neither was the recurring loop of this evening's events that kept replaying over and over in his mind. He couldn't decide whether he was angry with Mayor Bloom for being so biased, or perturbed that Jesse had momentarily fought his...well, MSA's...corner.

It was a disturbing thought, but an interesting one, he mused as he scanned the fruit selection and grabbed some apples for his basket. He'd like to know_ why _above all else. What had possessed Jesse to do it? Well, credit to her for trying because as difficult as it was for him to put ideas to the board, he knew she had her work cut out with the rigid and unmovable Fell's Point Board Members. Hadn't Spencer said that her sister thought all the bickering and fighting was stupid as well? If so, maybe he could reason with her – her actions over the grant and the Mayor showed she wasn't all bad, at least not as far as MSA was concerned. Perhaps he could find a way to make the hostility between the two schools subside. A truce maybe.

He shook his head, vaguely aware someone was standing nearby. Besides, the grant had been passed weeks ago, and a lot had changed since then. His students were involved in a restorative justice scheme at her school for goodness' sake! There was no hope of a truce from them or their students, not if earlier that day had been anything to go by. Cruz had tripped Ben up, and the young man had gone hurtling into a bucket of grimy water. It would have been quite funny, had it not been utterly mortifying. The look from Jesse said it all too.

Blake glanced up to see where the toothpaste aisle might be, and started a little to see someone bent over, looking at the fruit, further down the aisle. His brow furrowed when he realised it was _her_. Jesse. She hadn't seen him, and was examining the oranges, with a cart full of tings in front of her. Of all the mini-marts in all of Baltimore and she was _here_? Blake fought the urge to roll his eyes at the strange coincidence. Or perhaps it wasn't – perhaps it was just his luck.

Her hair was down but her fringe was clipped back from her face, and she looked strangely relaxed in casual clothes, even more so than she did when he took the students over to her school. He supposed then she was still 'Director Harper' but now, on her downtime, she seemed to have unwound and was strolling leisurely down the aisle. Blake paused, debating with himself whether or not he should say anything, but when he had made his mind up not to and to just walk on by, she looked up and saw him.

"Director Collins," Jesse said politely, placing the fruit she had been examining in her shopping cart and giving him a small smile. He couldn't tell whether or not she was annoyed to see him there - her face was a perfect mask at the best of times, and with her hair away from it there was no chance of concealment.

"Hello, Director Harper," he said, a little stiffly.

"I see we had the same idea."

"Hmmm?"

She gestured to his basket. "The late night shopping expedition?"

He nodded, not really knowing how to respond. "Yes, I guess so."

They paused awkwardly for a moment, bowed their heads, and Jesse smiled to herself. "Well, I'll let you get on," she simply said, pushing the cart past him. "Have a good evening."

He hadn't intended to say anything, but then he hadn't intended to find out either. Blake really just wanted to gage her reaction, and to ask her why. He couldn't see the harm in that. The worst she could do was not tell him.

"Miss Harper," he said, without looking back, but when he heard her stop, he turned slowly on his heels. She was looking at him expectantly, still nothing of curiosity or annoyance behind her eyes. If anything she looked _ready, _he noted, taking in the way she was standing. Ready for a fight.

"A little bird told me that you tried to persuade the Mayor to give the grant for a new studio to MSA," he said in a low voice, knowing that he sounded as if he were discussing something completely commonplace. Her expression changed - he watched it carefully - and a brief flash of something indistinguishable crossed it. Panic? Outrage? Amusement? She wasn't smiling though.

"I think your little bird might have gotten their facts wrong," she replied, meeting his eyes. If she was trying to bluff, he almost believed her; she was a pretty convincing liar.

"That was what I thought," admitted Blake, stepping towards her with one hand in his pocket, so they weren't talking across the aisle. "But then the Mayor confirmed it."

Jesse quite obviously didn't know what to say - in normal circumstances he might have enjoyed her reaction – and her shoulders slumped in a quiet defeat.

"I might have encouraged him to consider _both _schools," she said curtly. "Rather than seeing it as a one-horse race."

"What I can't understand is why you'd say anything at all," Blake retorted. "Why do anything that would help MSA? After all, we're the competition."

Jesse folded her arms in defence, but when she spoke, she didn't sound angry. "We didn't really need a new dance studio."

"No?"

"The facilities at Fell's Point are, and always have been, top of the range. It seemed...nonsensical for us to have another studio." Blake quirked an eyebrow at her frankness. "But, as you've no doubt noticed, the Mayor was a little biased. _I'd_ rather take the grant because we'd earned it, but there was very little I could do."

"Well," Blake mused. "I suppose I should thank you, for trying." Jesse bowed her head a little - perhaps she was embarrassed that he had caught her out in her act of kindness. When she looked up, she smirked at him.

"Don't think this means we're in any way even," she warned him.

"I wouldn't suggest it..."

"Because I was really only thinking of Fell's Point."

"Really?" Blake asked, fighting the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Yes," Jesse urged. "I was trying to even the playing field," she added hastily, as if she were trying to save some face, although it was far too late. "You're hardly a worthy opponent if you're not my equal. And let's be honest – Fell's Point is miles ahead. You're like...a locomotive to our bullet train."

"And you thought that lobbying for MSA to have a new studio would make us equal?" asked Blake, ignoring her metaphor, and not fighting his smile now.

"Well..." shrugged Jesse, smiling herself, "I think you've probably got a way to go before you catch up with Fell's Point but every little helps."

Blake shook his head, surprised to find himself laughing softly. "All the same. MSA did need that studio - especially with the influx of students. Rehearsal space is...limited. So thank you for trying."

Jesse rolled her eyes. "Believe me - I won't be so selfless again."

"I don't doubt it."

She gave him a look and went to leave but paused pensively and looked back. "This little bird...it wouldn't by any chance happen to be about yay high, look a lot like me and wear sweat pants...would it?"

"I'm afraid I can't reveal my source," said Blake apologetically, waving a hand.

"Hmmm. Right. I'm going to kill Spencer when I get home. Enjoy the rest of your evening Director," she said, pushing her cart away, leaving him in the middle of the aisle, smiling.


End file.
